Only two loves left

It seems like all my journalism senses have been put in a box and put away. No sarcasm, great one-liners, metaphors, thoughts, just icy calmness. I wonder, is this part of the new me everyone has been so enthusiastic about or is it just a phase? Maybe it will hit me on Friday, maybe it won't. Kinda worried if it doesn't 'cause what kind of person have I turned into? A person who's only feelings are joy, hope, and all those who are labelled in the same category? Why is it that I can't cry for the loss of the love of my life? The only 'real' love of my life, not the head of journalism at school or not my Mr. Big. But the man who taught me how to do math or told me all the answers when I was too lazy to do my homework myself, the man which I sat beside while doing his crossword puzzle, undoubtedly annoying him by telling all the answers. The man or the reason why I grew so attached to soccer, because that was just another way to his heart. The man which I lay beside while watching television, even making my mother and grandmother jealous by our 'band'. The man who loved classical music and who loved to tap along with his fingers and feet. (God I'd love to see that finger move with the melody again.) The man who was my everything during the three years after my grandmother died. All this being part of the past, the fact that I've only got two loves of my life left isn't breaking my heart. Kinda wish it would.