The other half

I'm ready, ready to be alone. I've been preparing myself as much as I can, but it will never be enough. You can't prepare yourself for when someone dies, when someone isn't a part of your life anymore after they've snuck in the back door of your heart and placed themselves there like a parasite, encompassing more and more of what's yours and making it their own, without you ever realizing. Half of me isn't mine anymore, and it's leaving me, detaching itself, and I'm left alone, without the rest. I'll be half empty, and I'LL be left with the burden of filling it back up again after it has gone. I became addicted, dependent, and I've almost run out. I'm almost tired of waiting, tired of contemplating the moment, I want to be free of this hurt. I feel like I can't breathe, I can't breathe without it. Still, I try not to think about it, I try to indulge while I can, but sometimes when I look at it, I hate it, I can't stand it, and it can feel it too, it sees the loss in my eyes like a mirror that tells the truth. I hate it because it can do this to me and knows I'll suffer for it because I can't rip it out myself. But soon half of me will be dead, never to be a part of my life ever again.