It was like an addiction that became too much for me. I couldn’t breathe anymore, nor eat, drink or sleep. I just had to see her every day of the week, be with her every hour I was awake and sleep next to her every night. I couldn’t even think about anything else but her. It became an obsession, I know that, but even so, I couldn’t help myself. She was just so beautiful, kind, caring, loving, sweet, adorable and perfect for me in all the right ways. I loved her to death and since I didn’t have any family near me this period in my life, she quickly became my all, my everything, what I cared about the most. The problem was that I never fully understood how much time we spent together, not until she told me that she hadn’t had a single day with her friends alone for the past two years. At first I couldn’t believe it either, so she had her best friend tell me about how I constantly could be found by her side. Although I couldn’t see the problem in that – I was too blind – it became apparent when she one day sat me down and told me that we couldn’t be together anymore, because she felt suffocated. I immediately tried to make her change her mind, and in the end, I managed to convince her that we could try a bit longer, with the promise that I’d be a better boyfriend.

Now, the problem wasn’t that she felt suffocated; it was me who felt alone. I simply couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that she hung out with guy friends, came home late and drank alcohol. It felt like I was a worried dad, which wasn’t at all what I wanted. When I realised this I knew there was no way I could be in this relationship; it got too much for us both. So, the next time we decided to go separate ways; we did it for real. No matter how painful it was, I knew she needed some time away from me. And so, we went out separate ways, continuing our lives without one another. I’ll admit that it was the hardest year of my life, the year that followed. I couldn’t work properly, hence getting fired soon afterwards. At the time, I didn’t care whether I lived well or on the street, because I didn’t see any point in living without her. It sounds dramatic, I’m aware of that. But haven’t you also lost someone you love? If you have, then you know how painful it is, how you’re incapable of doing simple things like get up in the morning or take care of your appearance. It’s like you’re lost in time, even though it moves. Maybe time moved without me? I hadn’t seen her, but I could picture how she sat on a restaurant, laughing with her friends, living life at its fullest. All those images in my head caused me to long for her even more. It came to the point when I thought I was sick, for real.

Thus, I went to a doctor. I told him all about the feelings I had inside, asked if he could do anything to help me. He, then, sent me to a psychologist who told me I just missed her. But I’d missed people before, a lot, and not once had it felt like this. Nonetheless, the psychologist said there was nothing wrong with me, and how could I argue with someone who knew what they did. I had no idea what I was doing; therefore I could not argue nor agree. In the end, I always gave up and went home to my empty apartment, without heat or food or comfort. I’d forgotten to shop for food and the housekeeper always nagged on me that I needed to pay my rent. I was surprised he didn’t kick me out in one go, instead of nagging each month. He knew I wouldn’t get him the money he wanted, so why did he let me remain there? Did he really pity me that much or was he just a good human being who didn’t have the heart to throw me out? Was there even a difference there? I couldn’t think about it clearly, I didn’t care enough.

Then, one day in December, the housekeeper finally had enough, he told me to pack my things and leave. What choice did I have but do as he said? I asked a friend of mine if he could have my stuff in his apartment, while I just roamed the endless streets of the city. He, of course, agreed and offered me a place to stay, with him in his apartment. I thanked him but said that I’d think about it. It was strange though, because I, to this day, have no idea what I did all that time. I think I just walked around at day, or possibly sat in a park, and then at night got myself to drunk to even stand up straight. I frankly didn’t know what was wrong with me. I had no clue one could become that obsessed with someone else and miss them until you did no longer care what happened to you. I could’ve dropped dead any minute of the day, but somehow I didn’t. I – not to my approval – survived over and over. I woke up every morning at a different place, might’ve had a headache, but other than that, I felt perfectly fine.

I often didn’t recognise the place I was at, though. Once, I woke up at a rooftop and saw a rope lying next to me. I wondered if I’d thought about killing myself the night before or if it had been a part of some stupid game – I guessed the latter. Anyways, I got up on my feet and realised that I barely felt them at all. My sneakers were covered in snow, along with the rest of my body, and my fingers were white from the cold. I, eventually, managed to stumble down from the rooftop and was found by an older lady on her way up to her apartment. She offered me some tea in exchange that I promised I would never do anything like that ever again. I looked at her with a doubtful eye, thinking: How can she ask that of me when we’ve never met before? I agreed since I really felt cold and followed the lady into her small, yet cosy, apartment. She was truly an old cat-lady; although she didn’t own any cats, her walls were filled with pictures of cats in different outfits, sceneries and so on. The kind lady made me a cup of warm tea and offered me something to eat. I reluctantly accepted her offer, feeling guilty for being unable to give her anything in return. I asked the lady why she was so kind to a stranger like me, especially when I was a guy who could’ve fooled her, stolen her money and left her unconscious on the kitchen floor. The lady had laughed at me.

“I know you wouldn’t do that,” she said confidently. “You’re not like that. A man, as young as you, doesn’t rush up on a rooftop with plans on killing himself if he’s a bad guy. You’re just a little lost, aren’t you, dear?” I stared at the lady with oblivion in my eyes. How had she known that I was lost? She smiled at me. “Tell me about it. Is it a girl?”

“How did you know? Is it obvious?” I asked her. She nodded her head.

“A man with troubles always wears a mask that he thinks no one sees through,” she replied swiftly. “What happened to you?”

I took another sip of my tea before answering, “Well, I broke up with my girlfriend a year ago. I haven’t forgotten about her and it doesn’t hurt any less than it did back then. She tried to break up with me once before because I suffocated her. I asked her to stay then, but soon I realised how intensely I guarded her as my own. I let her go to make her happier. I hope she is happier now, since I’m the worst I’ve ever been,” I explained to the lady. She nodded.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better. Thanks for the tea, it really helped. I’m just wondering whether I’ll always feel like this or if it’ll fade away with time,” I told her.

“Only time can tell, I guess,” she answered. “You haven’t spoken to her at all?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing, not a word. And I’ve gone to a psychologist recently because I do, honestly, think there’s something wrong with me. I haven’t eat