Lost

I know you are not coming back. My solitude comes from knowing I can go to where you are.
Am I having a pity party? I keeping saying to myself, out loud, stop it, stop it now. It doesn’t work, I keep crying.
I recall when I was little, and used to play pretend. That is what it is like now, it’s like playing pretend that never ends. A pretend that is excruciatingly real and unreal at the same time.
No one is asking, how are you doing? Are you ok? Do you need anything? How can I help? Truth is I am not ok. At least I don’t feel ok. What is ok supposed to look like? I don’t know where I am. I do know, what I need, nobody would understand, so I don’t tell anyone. How can you help? A hug, give me a hug, a real hug, make it real. That seems to be the only thing I feel anymore. Real hugs may be the way toward refilling from empty.
I need a hand to hold or maybe I need someone to hold my hand, I don’t know.
I am a billion miles away from even thinking about a relationship with anyone, but at the same time I hope someday I won’t be alone. I am still married and am not looking to change that, but being alone is hard. Living alone for the rest of my life terrifies me.
The events of the day no longer matter when you have no one to share them with.