Missing you.
I hate change. I hate not being able to control things. Things out of my control overwhelm me. It scares me losing people. It hurts knowing I’ve lost you. The regret of the “what if, shoulda tried” is eating me alive.
I miss you.
He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same…….
— Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights
I could start fires, with what I feel for you.
