08.29.2023

I spent all day yesterday distracting myself from thinking about how it’s been five years since you left New York. Five years since I walked you to that train station holding back tears, wanting to tell you how much I wanted you to stay, wishing you would stay. I didn’t even realize I was distracting myself until it hit me, and when it hit me, it was like it was happening all over again; like I was trying to forget. I could never forget. Although we talked practically every day for several months after, I can’t help but thinking that the day you left was the day you decided to let go, that you were leaving to fulfill your bucket list dreams. It was only supposed to be a few short months until I moved to Seoul and would see you again, not on a computer screen or phone, but with my own eyes, but I never got to see you again. I never got to hold your hand, brush the hair from your face, smell the body-mist you would wear when you knew we would have a long day ahead of us, kiss you, or tell you how much I love you and what you mean to me. When you left you took all the color in my world with you and everything’s been grey ever since. I miss you, everybody always says that time heals things like this, but I’m starting to doubt that I’ll ever stop missing you