I realized something today. It wasn't something that people would normally realize because the person they love doesn't usually seem to disappear out of thin air like you did. Nonetheless, I realized something. "How did I live before I met you—before I loved you?" I've continuously asked myself this question for the last two days. The crazy part is that no matter how long I ponder this question, I just can't seem to figure out an answer. It seems as if I can't remember how I lived my life before I met you. My days were filled with so much fun and affection when I was with you that I just don't how I could ever go on living without you. Yet, here I am, alive in the home in which you left me to live in all alone. I don't know how, but I'm alive. Do you see me, Achilles? I'm living perfectly fine even if you aren't here with me. No, that's a lie. I'm not fine at all. Everything I see in this house reminds me of you. Everything I see brings up memories that I wished to repress. Happy memories, sad memories. Memories of us bickering about stupid things, like what hot sauce is spicier, and memories of us quietly sitting next to each other on the couch, just enjoying one another's company. I can't even sleep in our bed anymore because it reminds me too much of everything we've done together.