It's hard to feel like an outsider of a group that you were once such a huge part of. On Sunday I went to my friend Romina's for the naming of her son's Godparents -- Tella was named Godmother. There, surrounded by Tella, the guy she's currently dating, and all of "our" friends who, more or less, dropped me once my relationship with Tella was over, I sat quietly poised trying hard to swallow through the apparent lump that had formed in my throat.

I faltered when Tella read a short speech, intended for Joaquin (Romina's son), with movie recommendations, a book she'd like him to read ("The Little Prince" which she followed with one of my favorite excerpts from the book) and a wish that he had gotten to know her mom before she passed away. I let the tears fall freely down my cheeks as the lump grew bigger in my throat. Tella's face contorted when she talked about her mom and I felt myself clutching the pillows underneath me just to stop myself from getting up from my seat to rush to her side to hold her.

Still, days after, I find myself waxing nostalgic and thinking about her. I miss her. I miss her smile. I miss *making* her smile. I can silence these thoughts long enough to realize that she and I don't belong together; we don't fit...but a great deal of time and love and energy was spent on that relationship and I'd be foolish to think this feeling wouldn't linger for a bit.

I know someday I will find my other half; my missing piece. In a way I feel I am already well on my way there. And I am trying to be patient and strong and positive. But it's hard to wake up in a Queen-sized bed every morning with no one next to me. Night after night I go to bed alone, and have been for the better part of the last 6 years. After that long you start to wonder if maybe you're not worth waking up to.