No phone calls, no texts, no emails, no FB messages, no DMs, no tweets, no letters, nothing. I wasn’t holding out hope but the sudden end of this relationship has thrown me off center. Truthfully, I don’t spend my days thinking about him. I run errands, write, workout, eat my weight in cherries, I’m living. It only hits me at night when I’d rather have the weight of him on me than my comforter, when I long to nestle in the crook of his neck, or when I see pictures of happy couples on my FB timeline, that the pain is sharp and unrelenting. I can’t count how many times I’ve almost called or looked over his texts , dreamily traced his features with my fingers over his pictures. I don’t even think I miss him, in the “boyfriend” sense. He’s never been my boyfriend or even lover. He’s just been a ghost to a happier time in my life.  He represents a time when I allowed myself to be totally enveloped by love. I’ve grown colder, distant and a bit fearful of being in love again but I’ve always let myself go with him. I got caught up in his sweet-nothing’s, laugh and mouth that kissed, pecked and twisted into little white lies that he couldn’t keep up. He’s kept me hostage long enough, this year I’m letting him go. This doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m ready to love someone else, instead I’m giving myself permission to say that I need more.