Earlier tonight my girlfriend left for an eight month trip around Europe. When she returns, she's only here for two months, then she's off again to University in Montreal.
I already miss her smile, her kisses and her love. A good part of me is flying eastward as we speak, along with her.
I miss the way she'd cheer me up right now; how I'd be cheering her up.
I miss the way her heartbeat feels after we're both exhausting and sweating next to one another in bed, and we're both drifting off to sleep.
Now I could sit my ass here, put my playlist consisting of Where'd You Go, We're in Heaven, and Tim McGraw's Live Like You Were Dying on repeat for the next eight months, and wallow in self-pity and sadness.
And you know? In some twisted way that would be satisfiying. I think it's because it's the easiest way to aknowledge that I had something good going.
I could do that. Or I could get my ass up early tomorrow, hit the gym first thing, and get myself a decent paying job.
I could save up for the next three months and meet up with her in Ireland.
I could put my life in motion for the first time in many years, and move towards that same good thing.
Now that isn't the easiest course of action, but I'll be damned if it's not the one I'm going to take.
There are boys and there are men.