Sometimes you just take a picture, and you hope it's one of those photos that goes on someone's wall, and they'll fall in love with it because it's the young you.
And maybe I'm just thinking this way because I lost this lovely lady.
My Bobshi.
I'm sorry you never got the flowers, and I'm sorry I didn't stay more, but I love you.
It's kind of strange --Pennsylvania does this thing to me like nothing there happens in reality; Tim always said I described as a fairytale, magical place, and so the terrible things I felt up there...it doesn't feel like it happened. It feels like you should be on a plane to visit us like you planned, you should be in the air not the ground, not in a box where I can never see you or say goodbye or hello again. Because I love you.
Tim and I are talking again and he told me he missed me, did you know we've been apart for almost a year? We broke up in September..I wouldn't mind talking to you about it, Bobshi you understood people so much better than I do. You know so much more, about love and when love goes wrong and when something golden comes along. What am I supposed to do, Bobshi?
When I gave you my headband it was a childish thing to do, it's what children do out of fear, when they don't want to be forgotten. Which is really strange and funny, don't you think? I think you knew that I was afraid that it'd be the last time I'd see you, or maybe you knew it would be the last time. Maybe I knew it. But why should I be afraid of a dying person forgetting me? Shouldn't it be the other way around? It's like I wanted you to take something of me with you, even if it was just some pretty headband I just bought, just to hold my hair back while I cleaned my face at night. And that headband, I got it because I changed my hair, because I'm changing me, and now it feels like you're part of that change.
