dead

Twenty Seventh Letter

I'm moving with Elizabeth.
I realized that our apartment is one of the reasons why I've been slowly destroying myself.
Because a place for two without one is a constant reminder that you aren't here.
It counts as her job to look after people.
But it isn't the case now. She has a two week vacation, and she said that she had no problem with me staying.
In her eyes I can see that she understands.
She's the one that has understood me better than anyone. Somehow she knows when I want to talk or not. I think it's because she's been trough something similar.
I wonder what happened to her.
She also treated me differently. She didn't mention what happened. She didn't snoop inside of this notebook, like other doctors did, trying to figure out what the hell is going on with me.
Anyways, tomorrow I'll go to our apartment again and get some of my stuff. And also something yours, because I miss you.
I miss you.
Phil, I miss you so much.