I’m trying to focus on the time. Only three weeks. I wrote that yesterday and felt strong. Today I don’t feel strong. I need him here next to me. And I am once again getting so sick of it that I want to kick something and scream at the top of my lungs. It better freaking be worth it. It better be worth it having done these three years apart from each other, having pushed our life goals ahead of us because I felt the need to go to Sweden. I can only blame myself in all of this and although I refuse to regret it, it is hard to justify this pause in our closeness.

Three weeks until I get to pick him up at the airport in Copenhagen. Three more weeks of going to bed alone, waking up alone, cooking alone, watching TV alone, going on walks alone and being alone alone. I hate it so much at times. I can deny it and repress it and hide it, but I am thinking of him always. Thinking of how much I want him.

I don’t expect you to understand how it hurts when you’re forced to be half. The strength and courage and hope he gives me can also be received in a text message, through a Skype call or an email. But the physical closeness. His hand on my hair. His strokes on my back. My fingers in his pocket. My feet in his lap. His arms around me. My arms around him.

His annoying kisses on my nose. I can’t miss them anymore. I need him.