Now, almost one month later, I’m still a wreck. Now, almost one month later, I still can’t handle seeing other people happy together without breaking just a little inside. Now, almost one month later, I still can’t forget that he doesn’t like pizza, that he only eats white bread, what his homer-pyjamas look like, how cute he is around children, that his favourite colour is blue, that his heart beats irregularly, how annoyed he was when I didn’t answer immediately the first time he said he loved me, oblivious that I was just speechless, and I’m still wondering what stupid songs he can sing perfectly on singstar. Now, almost one month later, I’m still thinking about what went wrong. About what didn’t. Now, almost one month later, I’m still crying myself to sleep, I’m still crying softly in my bed. My bed that finally doesn’t smell like him anymore. My bed that won’t ever smell like him again.
- Unknown (via kvtes)
- Ram Dass (via thecalminside)