one year.

i think what kills me the most is that when i close my eyes i can feel you all around me, but when i open them you aren't here. its just me alone in my room. i see the same bare walls, and the same empty sheets. i see the clothes i was too lazy to throw in the hamper, and the empty water bottles i was too lazy to throw in the trash. sometimes i think about how hard the next year could be, but try to push that as far away from my head as possible. i don't want to be that selfish kid who pouts because things won't go exactly the way i want them to. so instead of thinking, i may just sit here and stare out of the window. i think i like the rain so much because it keeps people inside their homes, so when i look outside i see the world without it being cluttered with people i don't know, and will probably never know. sometimes i wish it would just pour every day so i could just sit and watch it fall. i could hide from the rest of the world, but still sit and watch from a safe distance. voyeuristic tendencies that don't involve one single person. i picture the two of us together on our porch one day, watching the rain together. you wrapped in a blanket and curled up as close to me as possible. im writing my novel, but taking a break every once in a while to kiss the top of your head and tell you how much i love you. just because it can't happen right now, doesn't mean it won't. i love having something to look forward to.