I miss you. I crave your scent, your touch, your laughter. Rereading letters or looking through pictures of us does not fill the space inside me. It doesn't drive away the cold I feel. I kind of shrink up, as if, by trying to make itself smaller, my body can overflow a little, and release some of the ache. It doesn't work. Not ever. I still reach out to you with my whole soul; every day, like the night I was searching for answers, I run to you.
It has been almost 2 months since I've seen your face. We have only a week left--just a few days, really--but it feels like miles and miles away from the end. The summer has flown by, but the days are still wretchedly slow. Seven days feels like eternity; one day feels like thousands.
If I can just continue existing, time will carry the rest.
