More on how much I miss my ex. I was scrounging some pictures of myself, and I went back to some online galleries she had shared of us in Florida, us in the Italian Riviera, us in Paris, us in the vineyards of Long Island. And I thought to myself, I miss her like I would miss the color yellow. Like all bumblebees were black. Like oranges and blood oranges were the same, and there was no difference between aquamarine and green. Living every day without her is like waking up to a red sun, and having white griddle cakes under black light.
So, I think this is good, I think grief is a cycle, I think I have to be hit with these crises every so often to move on.
But, I miss her like I'd miss the color yellow.
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