A Musicless Existence

Picasso's The Old Guitarist

Dear Pennsylvania,

You are probably getting home soon. I wish I was getting home with you or you were coming home to me. I miss you. It is so hard breaking up with a musician - I can't listen to good or bad music without my heart sinking, thinking of you. I thought maybe Christmas music would be the exception, but nope - I just thought about how torturous it would be for you to listen to Bing Crosby's rendition of "I'll Be Home for Christmas". Perhaps I will live a musicless existence for awhile.

I keep thinking of what I want for my life. What my goals are, what my value system is. And it keeps coming back to you. I love that we shared common goals. I love the life we would have had together. You are what I want. I can't believe that I am not spending the rest of my life with my best friend. It doesn't seem right.

I wonder how long it will take for me to not think of you every 15 minutes....every half hour....every hour.....every day......how long before a week goes by when I am not constantly reminded of you, of how much I miss you. I wonder when I will actually hope you fall in love, hope you get married and have a family, with someone else as your wife. When will I stop checking my email every ten minutes in case you respond to my logistical emails? When will I be able to listen to bad jazz on the radio or in the background of commercials and not well up with tears?

How long before I can fall asleep without taking two crappy over the counter sleeping pills to kill the anxiety and ease my broken heart to sleep.

Love,

Wisconsin