I think I have found myself in a sort of melancholic depression. I go through a few days where I just sleep and sleep and sleep some more, and others that I can barely close my eyes, let alone fall asleep at night. I have definitely lost quite a bit of weight, and am probably around 150 pounds, if not lighter than that. Most of the time, my mornings are the most difficult. I just don't want to get up and go to my class, and have to talk to myself out loud, and talk to her, in order to get up and out of the house. I find myself talking to her as I walk through the town, and can only imagine what others think of me. Wandering around after class through town, talking to her out loud. When I think of something to tell her in my head, the response that she gives me is almost automatic. Even too quick for me to formulate one. Maybe I just don't give my mind, and imagination, enough credit, but when I think of her response, I believe it is actually what she would say if she were here. But she's not. All I have now is a memory of her. I think only someone who has experienced this type of loss can understand the depth of this torment. I don't actively choose to write these things, and don't want to be miserable. When I first met her, she was all I could think about. I was absolutely captivated, and I think the level of my love for her is only equaled in intensity by the depth of my pain. It is a cruel dichotomy to have to deal with everyday.