Time is supposed to heal everything,
but how is that possible when time is but a construct?
The fact that you are not here is objective,
the fact that it is for the better is subjective.
The pain of losing you is more or less, relative to the person feeling that pain,
where mine is absolute in its entirety.
All consuming.
In a world full of doubt, uncertainty, and loss,
there are three things I know to be true:
When something is whole, it is complete.
When the whole is halved, it is deficient.
I do not know who I am without you.