The morning after you left me was a Thursday. The sun still rose in the morning while a soft breeze was in the air, knocking rust-colored leaves off trees. I still got out of bed, brushed my teeth, ate breakfast. The morning after you left me I watched my family cry, but I couldn't. I drove home in silence. The stoplights still changed green to yellow to red, but somehow they seemed slower. The morning after you left me, cars zipped past on their way to work, kids stood at their bus stops, the streets were full and loud. Coffee shops were still open, breakfasts were still made. Strangers still passed me on the sidewalk, phones to their ear in full conversation.
The morning after you left me my phone still turned on. I realized it had been 15 days since I'd last heard your voice. I realized I would never hear your voice again. I played an old voicemail you had left me over and over again. The morning after you left me my car still needed to be filled with gas. I looked at my passenger seat and knew you would never sit there again. We would never get another lunch or see another musical. The morning after you left me I looked in the mirror, my hair was still brown. My eyes were still hazel. I looked the same, I smelled the same, I sounded the same, but I did not feel the same.
The morning after you left me, I watched everyone else on campus go to class, but I couldn't go. I hung a new picture in my bedroom. I got lunch with a friend. I put an old Taylor Swift cd on in my car and sang. A song I used to love came on as I pulled into a parking space. The morning after you left me, all at once, I remembered what had happened the night before.
The night you left me I had four missed calls while shopping with friends. I was laughing my way through a store in the middle of the night like a normal college student. I finally looked down at my phone and knew something was wrong. The night you left me I couldn't drive my own car home because I couldn't feel my hands. I sat on the floor in disbelief as my roommates watched me, unsure of what I would do. I spent hours in an ER. I hugged my crying family. The night you left me I didn't believe it was true. I couldn't believe it was true. Until I saw you. The night you left me, I blamed you for leaving, but I know that wasn't your fault. I knew you didn't want to leave.
The morning after you left me, I was still alive. The morning after you left me my heart was still beating, but yours was not. And I have never been the same.
