Every day is different. Some days I forgive you, some days I forget you. Tonight, I spent an hour and a half reading through text messages between you and I on my computer, where I haven’t deleted them. I wanted to see if I would still feel sad, if I would still cry. I felt a little sad, but I did not cry. That’s a measure of progress in its own right.

I’d forgotten what it feels like to have someone regularly tell you they love you. I’d forgotten what it felt like to take something like that for granted. It isn’t as if you always texted me goodnight, or always communicated that you loved me, or always made…