A frightening lack of self-awareness.

It's only been a week and a half since we broke up.

Two weeks since you left me a voicemail saying you loved me, "So, so much, Preet. You're the best, and I can't wait to see you."

Three weeks since we had an awesome time at Cancun Mexican Grill, per usual, after spending hours packing away my life. Hot, sweaty, overworked, underslept, we still had a great time.

Four weeks since you had pink eye, and we hung out all day anyway.

Five weeks since you spent a weekend with me and my mom, and we all took naps and got ice cream.

Six weeks since you spent two long days helping me put up my show, encouraging me when I needed it, telling me to get  my butt moving when I needed it, and hammering a thousand nails into the wall, "because I love you."

Seven weeks since you told me you never should have left.

Eight weeks since you moved away, crying and not wanting to stop hugging me.

Nine weeks since you wrote me a song telling me that you wanted to marry me, and then played it for me while I danced and we laughed.

Ten weeks since we were having so, so much fun (Except when we were freaking out that you were moving away) in Williamston for the sixth month straight. Making quesadillas, watching "an episode," playing Dominion, staying up really late, eating The Chewy, brushing our teeths, swooshing each other up, cleaning up Nate and Emily's mess, hiding in my covers, hiding in your covers, playing Midnight Club 3, watching The Bee Movie, walking to D&W, making pancakes, crispies, and Moons over My Hammy, and taking walks around the block and campus (remember?).

And now, if you feel like we can't be together because you are tired, you are really confused about almost everything in your life, and you need to just think about yourself and be selfish, well, whatever.

But how can you already be talking to someone else?