I really hate those first few weeks of missing someone. The days drag. You have to get at least six weeks in before you start to adjust. You have to have plenty of distractions and other plans. If I could sum up my life in one sentence it would be “so close but yet so far.” I’ve been so close to what I’ve wanted but still have never gotten it. I’m talking about so close that it ceases to make sense why I never got it.  I’ve taken the hand I thought would finally grasp what I wanted and waved goodbye to that very thing. I hate having to walk away sometimes. 

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