Nyctophilia

Twenty-Seven.

I can't believe, after all this time, I still haven't found the perfect name for you. I know one will come up eventually, so I'm just going to have to wait.

I haven't written in exactly eight days. Lilly has come over twice, something I'm so grateful for. Unfortunately, she's still the same reserved Lilly that I've come to get used to.

The only time I can get away from all of this drama is at night, when I go onto the roof. That's it. It's sad, really.

Nothing's the same anymore. I miss old Lilly; the one who laughed and smiled and made me feel better with her positive attitude. She was my anchor that kept my feet on the ground when things flipped upside down. Now she's gone, and I don't think I'm ever getting her back.

I feel like I've become her rock. I think I'm doing a pretty shitty job.