I miss talking in the dark. I miss closing my eyes and just saying any small thing on my mind, her head on my shoulder. I miss whispering to her in the dark, softly telling her I love her, that I’m happy she’s lying next to me. Everything I say is said under the soft glow of a 17″ MacBook Pro, all in text, sometimes in a mechanical British accent. I can’t change it, this is the rest of my life. For the most part, I’m used to this new me, but not always… Not in the dark, holding her and wanting to say things the way I used to say them.
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