Maybe, just maybe, these will be the last tears I shed over you.

If you were here I’d ask you
all the things I’ve never known;
your favourite smells,
your secret fears,
if you ever felt alone.

If you were here I’d listen
as you taught me right from wrong;
to try my best,
do things I love,
that their doubts will make me strong.

If you were here you would’ve seen
all the moments that you’ve missed;
watched me turn 18,
watched him graduate,
met the first boy I ever kissed.

If you were here I might not be
so cynical and wry;
I’d smile more,
I’d have less scars,
wouldn’t fear they, too, will die.

I’m spending my Saturday night watching season 2 of Dr Who (the first one with David Tennant)and I just love it so so much!
Him and Rose are bloody perfect!
 

I am Haunted by memories of how happy I was.

Had a sudden realisation of how much I miss my dog, and that she won’t be there to greet me when I get home ever again.

I’m writing to tell you how much I’ve missed you
throughout this past year.
How I’ve grown older, stronger, in some ways harder
whilst wishing you were here.

I hope you know that you’re in my thoughts
with every single breath.
Not a day has gone by without me wishing I could’ve
prevented your death.

And although since the day that you passed away
my life’s fallen apart.
Gradually, the scars will fade from both
my body and my heart.

All that I have achieved in this past year would’ve
made you so happy.
My biggest regret is that you wern’t there to
say that you’re proud of me.

And since you’ve been gone I’ve made choices
and done things I regret.
Though In time the pain will fade
I promise never to forget.

I’m writing to tell you how much I’ve missed you
throughout this past year.
How I’ve grown older, stronger, in some ways harder
whilst wishing you were here.

I wish I could write the words to say how much I love you, and miss you, an need you.

I was fine, before we met.
I know you won’t believe me (you never believed me when I claimed to be fine) but I was okay.
I was wading through the monotony of life with a wry smile, an ironic arch of an eyebrow and a cynical laugh. I may not have been happy, as such, but I was content. Bored; neither happy nor sad.
I was okay.

Sure, I was scared – I still am, more than ever – and maybe I was a bit too reluctant to let my guard down, to let people in. I always assumed they’d hurt me, or I would crush them. Either way, it would end up in tears.
(And wasn’t I right about that, in the end?)

It was, and to this day remains, one of the biggest risks I have taken. For once, I didn’t spend hours weighing up the pros and cons, the potential for disaster over that which I would gain. (I wonder, if I had, if I would have simply walked away.) Instead, as chiched as it is, I let myself fall.

I was happy. I know you doubted this, but you made me happy. Or, at least, as happy as I’d let myself be – I was still convinced, at that point, that I simply wasn’t meant to be happy. That I could never be truly happy.
But looking back on those days, I was happy. I laughed and smiled more than I had in years, and I opened up and told you my fears and my hopes and I was honest. I stopped putting on the mask that I had grown so accustomed to wearing, and I let down the barriers that had defended me for years.
Sure, there were bad times too - days when I would wake up and be unable to feign a smile, unable to stop the tears, but I knew that I could let you witness this side of me. I knew that you’d just hold me and help me through.

So what I am trying to say, I guess, is that I was fine before I met you. And I am fine now that I don’t know you at all. And for a while, in between, I was happy. And no matter what, I am grateful for that.

5 mins in, me and mum are already crying.

I WILL MISS PUCK

… About being forever alone and unloved and unable to sleep on my
Own.

I sincerely apologise for the abundance of posts like this on my blog lately.

What I want most if all is someone who’ll hold me in the nights when I miss him more than I can explain.
When I can’t do anything but cry.
I want someone who will stay with me when I realise, yet again, that he is never coming home.