30 April 2012
I can't even write poetry, I'm too upset. Heartbroken. Almost desperate. It's silly, it's not even a real thing, you and me. It's like a weird, hit-and-miss, non-relationship. And I knew from day one you wouldn't be around for more than a year; you would ramble on, off on some epic adventure to here, there or anywhere you chanced across.
Although Nepal. That was...perhaps further than I'd thought. There had been talk of Germany and with a job settled, I thought that was it. But, it seems, it wasn't crazy enough for your unbroken, wild freedom-seeking. So, for little-to-no money and a disturbing lack of information, you're off to Nepal in September.
I can't deny it's the opportunity of a lifetime. And it's just so you. But please, when I tell you how much I'm going to miss you, at least care. Or pretend to. I know you aren't good at showy, emotional stuff but really...it's us. And stay in touch. Please. For my sake.
I don't know what I'm going to do without you. It's hard to think of the future without you at the centre.
30th April 2012 • Opuss № I