Some things will always be inexplicably connected to him, caught up in his very existence. I will never be able to listen to Led Zepplin's 'Over the Hills and Far Away' without thinking of the way he tousles his hair when he's had a few drinks; his smile; the naive, childish sparkle in his clear, green eyes. The smell of his aftershave, Joop for men, mingled with the warm leather of his jacket and a hint of beer. Ranting about society. The word plethora. So many movies will never, ever be the same. It's like half the world has taken on a new meaning. Just looking at the sky at night, the trees, the shoppers going about their pointless, self-indulgent business, drags my mind from whatever it's supposed to be doing and choke-holds it into thinking about how he is the most amazing person I've ever known.
Soon he'll be gone. He's a free-spirit, a wanderer. I'd never want to change that; it's one of the things I love about him. Part of me wants to scream at him for being so selfish: how dare he do whatever he wants and be so damn free? But I know he wouldn't be happy being tied down or dragging someone like me behind him. And I want him to be happy. Last year was full of pain, loss and difficulty. Sometimes, when he lets the wall down a little, he still sheds a tear over past pains and heartbreaks. I'll always love him and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to survive without him. But I want him to be happy, and that's more important than keeping him with me. So, go. Be free and be happy my love. And I'll be a cracked glass forever.
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