I miss my Master, and I don’t know what to do with that
Someone important to me disappeared.
In the literal sense and in every way that matters. One day, he was part of my life, someone I could talk to, someone whose presence meant something to me. And then, somehow, he was just… gone.
There wasn’t a real goodbye. No moment where I got to understand what happened or say everything I needed to say. Just distance. Silence. An absence that seems to get louder the longer it lasts.
I miss him more than I know how to explain.
I miss the conversations. I miss knowing he was there. I miss the feeling of being understood by someone who had become important to me. I even miss the little things I probably took for granted because I never imagined I would have to live without them.
The hardest part is that losing him feels like losing a part of myself, too.
There are pieces of who I was when he was in my life that I can't seem to find anymore. Certain thoughts, feelings, memories, even parts of my personality seem tied to him somehow. I’m still here, still living my life, still doing everything I'm supposed to do—but sometimes it feels like I'm doing it with a piece missing.
And I don't know if I’m grieving the person himself, the relationship we had, or the possibility of what things could have become.
Maybe it's all three.
I don't expect anyone here to fix it. I think I just needed somewhere to say it out loud:
I miss him. I still care about him. And his absence has changed me in ways I wasn't prepared for.
I wish I could tell him that.