In 8 days.
A part of me wants to just rush you off and tell you to have fun and be safe, and kiss you goodbye.
Another part of me wants to run away, there is this nagging suspicion that I wont be able to handle even two months away from you.
I was fine until earlier today, when we spoke on the phone: when you talked about our last night here and how you wanted to spend it with me. Just being with me. This was the beginning of the downward spiral inside of me. At dinner i started crying, i tried to play it off by saying it was over little fish. And the truth is that once i said that, i did cry for little fish..but only because i got him with you. He would have been my company for all of the days when you could not. Poor little fish, fuck parasites.
Gosh i am being such a babyhead, i don't even feel like dancing to the music playing from molly's speakers now...and it is good music that would usually send at least my fingers into a dance.
8 days, 7 tomorrow when i see you, and then you are gone again. and i will sit here thinking about how you are gone and i am here taking exams and doing projects that lack an real meaning. mostly just missing you. missing everything about you that i've grown to love so much.
I am crying now, and i should be writing an Italian paper...but all that is doing is making me think about you being there and such which is making this just awful.
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