It’s happening.

That tight feeling in the pit of my stomach that comes out of nowhere. It’s the first time all week I’ve been able to sit still, and it’s like my body was waiting for a quiet moment to let the weight of your absence settle. 

I saw your hair on my towel and almost immediately my stomach twisted.

Your hair is here, but you are not. 

That was all I could think for a solid five minutes, and the thought keeps creeping back in when I least expect it, stirring a longing in me that I’m struggling and failing to keep quiet.

Why does the hair get to stay while the rest of you has to go? Why leave such an insubstantial but brutally heartbreaking part of yourself behind?

Your hair is here, but you are not.

And its one of those nights where that simple fact alone is too much to take.

1st April — 2 notes ❤
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