I miss you. I'm sitting here, about to start reading again, and wish I was at your house watching a movie, with you asleep on my chest while I scratch your head. You'd have picked it out, then fallen asleep probably 35 minutes in, then woken up and pretended like you weren't asleep. Never understood why you didn't just let me pick the movie?
I'd love to call you and tell you about my weekend. There has been so much going on with me and it's crazy that you don't know about it. No matter what, I feel like something is always just a little off... I'm never fully there, or on, or happy, or in the moment. Even when I'm not directly thinking about you I think it's there in my subconscious, holding something back.















