The streets are duller and dirtier. The faces passing by less friendly and for some reason the weight of the world seems to be heavier on my shoulders. I can’t focus like I usually can. My mind wanders, wondering what you’re doing right now. I reign in these thoughts, trying to concentrate and get the day-to-day things done but I soon find I’m back to thinking of you. I’m distracted in a way only having you near can repair.
I don’t take the same comfort I usually do from my routines. There is a piece missing that is impossible for me to replace. I feel out-of sorts, short-tempered and unproductive. I don’t want to play music. I don’t want to read. I don’t want to watch television. I don’t want to listen or think or converse. I’m in a perpetual state of waiting.
I am missing you so much. Hurry home, babe. I’ll be waiting; for you and you alone.