When you leave there are always little fragments of you and our visit scattered across my room and the rest of the house. There’s a new pokéball on my shelf now to match my Ash cap, and a New Look bag on the floor with my new red jeans in that I still haven’t put away. My cocoa butter moisturiser that I bought, identical to yours, is on my bedside table with a leaflet from Centre Parcs where we were just over a week ago. But the biggest noticable difference is next to the three new bears you bought me. Emptiness. A space on the bed where you should be sleeping. A space on my floor where you left your suitcase. An empty spot in the shower where your face-scrub lives. But it’s always only temporary until you have to leave again. And again. I can’t wait until it isn’t temporary. My life will always be an emotional rollercoaster until it’s fixed. And I am not letting you go when it is.
Literally crying. I love you so fucking much.