99 Days Without You

Days 48-50

Day Forty-Eight:

So I reluctantly agreed to go along with the hiatus, after an hour of my mom sobbing to me, saying how much she missed me and wanted me home with her. They think it’s the best thing for me, to get away for a while. So this is where I find myself, writing this entry while sitting next to an empty suitcase. Maybe I should bring your favorite beanie along with me, so I can fall asleep with you inside my arms—or, at least something that reminds me of you. I hope you don’t mind if I borrow it.

Day Forty-Nine:

The train station is crowded and the noise keeps banging through my ears. People keep pushing me as Paul guides me along through the mass of people, while he tries to keep me out of the fans’ view at all times. I thank Paul for that, because I don’t want the fans to see me like this. I’m wearing your old beanie, along with your old worn out sweats that you used to waltz around the flat in every morning. I’m tiny within the large sweatshirt that is engulfing my upper body, but I don’t care what I look like. I’m leaving the flat—our flat. Our flat where we had made so many fond memories, ones that I’m beginning to forget with each passing day without you here with me. We could have made more, had you stayed longer. And as I step onto the train, waving my final goodbyes to the city I have come to love, a single tear slips from my eye.

Day Fifty:

After a short train ride home yesterday, and the unpacking of my things, I have finally settled into my old child-like bedroom. My mother hasn’t let me out of her sight, and I’m beginning to feel as suffocated as I was with the boys crowding my breathing space. I love my mom, I really do, but I just need to be alone. The girls are glad to have me back, and they woke me up this morning by piling on top of me and tickling me awake. It was the first time I had laughed in a while. This might be good for me.