I had the summer of my life, a summer I couldn't even begin to describe to anyone, where I have met some of the most important people in my world. They fixed me, put me back together.
...And then I moved to Manchester, and built a real life for myself, a home and friends. It has been phenomenal.
Now though, I feel a bit lost, finally in a place where I can breathe and over-look everything that has happened over the past few months.
But I miss him. A dull ache to a once physical pain. But he is back in my life, in some ways stronger than ever. He told me he loved me recently. A drunk night that turned into a long 3am phone-call. I know the love he means because I feel it too, not the kind of love that we'll promise to make it work no matter the distance that i now permanently between us, but in a way that will over ride it all really. That his face still softens whenever I see him. That the smile still comes, that he holds on that little bit longer whenever he hugs me, that he still calls me 'trouble' but not in the way he once did, now it's as if he is reliving everything, a cheeky grin when he says it. I love him, so much. I think about him again every single day and it pisses me off more than ever. But I don't hate him for it anymore, love him for making an effort with me, calling me surprisingly some mornings, that's always my favourite.
A few month ago I wanted to come and write how I was over him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm not gonna get over it, I know that, I really do. But I'm not clinging to some hopeless dream state. "You never know what is going to happen in the future" he said to me. I see that he is right now. I don't want to know either. Ignorance is bliss for me, for him, for us.
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