Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Before I met you, my life was an endless and continuous string of things to do, places to be, grades to achieve, hours to work, and drama to unravel. After I met you, I had tiny shining moments to look forward to in my day: the time I spent checking my email and seeing your bold name in my in-box. It didn’t matter that you lived six hours away or that we were just pen-pal type friends; I knew that in the few minutes I spent starting at the glowing screen imbibing your kind words, silly humor, sincere feedback, and gentle nudges towards flirtation that all of my worries and stress from that day would disappear.
You were (and still are) new, exciting, different, and most importantly of all, dependable. I quickly found that I didn’t have to tip toe around you with what I said; I could say what I meant and mean what I said without fear of losing you. You let me be honest and appreciated me for it. That’s why I’ve never felt the need or even the want to lie to you about anything. You know all sides of me: the great, the good, the bad, the really bad, the ugly, the really gross, and the disturbing. Yet, you still profess an undying love for me, and that truly amazes me.
Every time you leave for business, whether it’s a day or three weeks, I quickly find that my life totally sucks without you physically being in it. It’s not just because when you’re not home I have to take care of our puppy on my own and practically drag myself by the hair out of bed in the morning and come home to an empty house and sleep all by my lonesome. When you’re not home, I feel like half of me is missing. My heart aches; my limbs feel tired with the yearning to reach out to you; I don’t know how to function properly without you here.
I lived 20 years of my life without knowing who you were. Now that I’ve found you, I wouldn’t ever willingly give you up because living without you is the worst possible scenario I could ever imagine.
All my love, your wife,