Thursday, November 8, 2012
Literally all I want to do is sleep. I want to close my eyes and forget everything because too much of it reminds me of you. Canadian accents and Michael Buble and Michigan and this shirt, and that place, and sometimes I roll over on my right side and half-expect, half-hope to see your face. At the same time, though, I refuse to let myself forget because those memories are all I have left.