How could I explain that the way I felt was actually better? How could he ever know what was going through my mind? Suddenly I understood the term visiting. I was in one place, he was in another, and he was only pausing. --I haven't been writing for a while, I've been busy, making my life that way. The more complicated I can make it with things to do, the less time I have to think. And the less time my heart has to feel broken. In light of that, I've been trying to do all I can with my life, school, work-- all aspects of time that I tweak to more use than moping. But there's been a few things I've caught on to realize but just as well, letting other things slip away. To answer my first question, I could never tell him I was actually better now. He would never know, and I couldn't tell him that he released me in two unexpecting but great ways. He broke up with me and second, he gave me the chance to find myself again. I was so lost in being so angry, anxious, jealous, upset that I forgot what it was to be happy with myself, and with him. Moments didn't have to be wrapped around emotions of tears or hate, it was simpler than that. I enjoy everything more. His hugs, his kisses, his hold on me. Just as much, my instincts are so irradicated that they know better. They know he'll never really be mine, ever. So it's okay that I let him hug me, kiss me, hold me, because that's all I can give back to him. I can't give him any more of me, my heart and my love are mine to keep and to keep safely. My love for him has grown, different than I ever imagined-- the love I have for him is of genuine respect, he let me see something I needed to see in myself and that was strength, strength to love myself unconditionally, strength to be able to love another with boundaries of reality, strength to move on. The thing is, I hate to look back and think this way when I'm trying so hard to push forward that I remember I was always there, however much I wanted to dwell on past memories each time I was with him, with each instance I was still there, with him. I was there to stay. But in the end, he really was just passing by, pausing his life to make an impact in mine, he was a visitor, someone meant to only pass by, and he did. And after that and before you knew it, he left.