Have I told you how much I miss your writing? A bad day turned around by the familiar words of an old story, "endless tangled hair and icy blue eyes", met by my "hazelnut brown eyes and midnight blue hair". I still see you, I still feel you and yet, I still miss you. I miss looking to my left to see no one there, like a lonely teenager in a movie where eventually all turns out well and dreams are fulfilled. Yes, it seems like a lovely ending to have, and not a likely one all the same. The future is not my favourite thing to talk about either, I'm scared it will slip away from me. I'll become victim to the entoxicating pain I've become good friends with once more. So, let's not talk not talk about the next twenty years or five or one. Instead, let's talk about the next week.
I've got a plan for the movies baby, I'd kill for you to be there with me, let the gods allow us this one shot. Because I know you'd want to, and I would too, so let's fight even if it's just for one night out. Some shitty blockbuster movie blocked by the crinkling of Skittles packets. It's not perfect, and nothing is. But it's as close as it gets.
We could both use a break, I know that much. In that case, we should get kitkats.
