::S p U n K y D a i S y::

Thursday, January 13, 2011

It's one of those days. Again. One of those days where missing you is just too hard to bear.

It's been close to six years and I still don't know how to let you go. How to let me go. How to let us go.

I don't talk about you anymore but I still think about you. All the time. And each time is still filled with remorse. It still hurts. I don't think I've ever fully recovered from your demise.

I can't even bring myself to delete log files of our conversations. I know, I know. How stupid of me to hold on to someone who's not even here anymore but those log files...they're the only things that remind me that you were real. They hold the best conversations I've ever had with anyone and I've re-read them a million times.

I don't know what I would give to wake up to your voice, to tell you about my day, to listen to you talk about yours. Or to just hear you say you love me.

I miss you.

And often, I have to shake myself and remember that it's been almost 6 years. That's it's time to get out of this funk.

But my heart still aches.

I don't think I'll ever fully recover.

"You have to look at what you have right in front of you, at what it could be, and stop measuring it against what you've lost. I know this to be wise and true, just as I know that pretty much no one can do it." — Jonathan Tropper

Bunny @ Thursday, January 13, 2011

about moi

Loves the beach, wishes she had more time and money to travel, recently got hooked to climbing mountains, reads anything she can get her hands on, frustrated writer, adores her 3-year-old Lhasa Apso, Tashi, constantly needs caffeine, ~~wonders when she'll quit smoking~~, and will most likely die due to liver complications from drinking too much ~~(if the cigarettes doesn't get to her lungs first)~~. Can't live without accessories especially big, dangling earrings, shoe freak (aren't we all?), sucker for discovering hole-in-the-wall restaurants, will ingest anything spicy, enjoys giving and receiving massages, addicted to Friends, Sex and the City and CSI, goes gaga over kids, dreams of being alone with Jim Morrison and smoking a joint with Bob Marley. Would love to party with Gwen Stefani, shop with Patricia Field, write poetry with Maya Angelou and have Sting, Nelson Mandela, Mark Twain and Bono over for dinner.

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