I know Debbie didn’t really look at me or see me at all, but it’s still such a wonderful feeling when it feels as if they look right at you.
Blondie live - it was everything and more. Perfect. Speechless.
Getting ready for the Blondie concert - never thought I’d ever get to say that.
It’s been almost four months, but I keep hoping he’ll come back. I lie in my bed and remember us sitting on it, watching a movie. Talking about scary movies at work and it reminds me so much of him and how it was our thing.
I watch his picture on my DVD shelf and I can’t fucking believe that’s what he is now - a picture on a shelf, tell-tale sign of someone who’s gone. I still find myself fighting tears at the most unexpected moments because it’s just over for him. LinkedIn suggests possible contacts and I can’t bring myself to uncheck the box next to his name, even though I know he’s not even there to accept.
I want to talk to him so badly, and hold him and smell him again. I can’t let him go. I feel like he was too alive to even be able to die. It’s so utterly nonsensical that he’s not here anymore, that I can’t text him and we can’t meet up. I need him here with us. We weren’t fucking done.
I feel like I can’t keep going on without him. I need him by my side. I’m done with talking about him in past tense. I’ll give anything; I just want him back.