I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking. Thinking of things I never want to experience again. Things that haunt me. Things that just seem to keep replaying over and over even when you never want them to.
Why do our brains do this? We think of things that we don't want to think of.
I miss her. I messed it up. So now I have to lay here, alone in this bed, without her beside me.
I miss the smell of her perfume.
I miss the way her hair blew in the wind.
I miss the way she laughed when I told a stupid joke.
I miss the way she and I would jump around listening to music.
I miss going on dates and loving her. Touching her forehead and kissing her goodnight while she clung onto my arm while she slept.
