"Your absence has passed through me like thread through a needle...everything I do is stitched with its color."
I can't believe it's almost been a year...I mean, a whole year.
Twelve months, three hundred and sixty five days.
the ache is still there; I mean, some days its okay, and sometimes I don't miss you at all...then just like gravity, something always brings you crashing back into my thoughts and I wonder if things could have been different...
I know that it probably wouldn't have been, it was probably the way your life was supposed to be, but it sucks.
Yes, I said it sucks. Sometimes I want to pout or cry or throw things...even sing at the top of my lungs
someday it'll be okay