Five months. Today would have been five months since February 9. Would have been.

But no. It really was only four months and six days. Four months. Not five. Not six. Not ten. Not twelve.

I can’t get over this. I won’t. I refuse to. How could you let it only be four months and six days. How pathetic is that?

You were my best friend. You still are, even if I don’t think you want to be mine.

Four months. I just don’t see why you would want to end everything so soon. End. What a terrible word.

Five months. Why. Why is it the 9th today? A day I should be happy, I’ll now always hate. It should have been five months.