It’s been four full days. One would think it’d get easier. More tolerable. Less painful. But it’s not. It’s the opposite. My stomach is in constant knots. I can’t settle. I cry. I sit, hollow, trying to appear fine.
I’m worried about you currently.. You weren’t feeling well. But I’m trapped by your final words. So I think of you and pray you feel my thoughts. That you feel me. Remember when you did? No matter where I was, you heard me.
I miss you. GN. ILY.