You were my everything.

I held you closer than anyone.

I confided in you.

You kept me alive.

I lost you.

I almost died.

I didn't.

I lived painfully.

I cried to sleep.

I took pills to sleep so I could forget about it.

I looked around.

Felt real dumb.

Looked up and saw the Earth spinning.

I looked at you, and realized how wrong this had been.

I'm grateful you were there.

I'm glad you were my first love.

I love you still.

I'm still here.

But I'm not at your hip joint.

I'm not on the phone fighting at one in the morning.

I'm away from that.

And I'm happy.

I've officially moved on.

I realize what we had was beautiful.

I realize that it was real.

And we were real.

But the reality is that it's gone.

And I have accepted that.

It makes me happy to know.

That we are okay.

I don't ever want to lose you, in a friend sense.

But we weren't meant to get so far in.

We tested our maturity.

We tested love.

We tested faith.

We lost.

And that's fine.

We know where we stand.

And I'm happy to know that we're fine.

And not fine and dandy.