She gave me a note and I had cried over it. It lists all the beautiful, amazing things we have done together. All those things that hold me so close to her. I miss her touch, her leather backpack she’d always wear, her happy being, holding me dearly, cycling around with her, looking into her eyes and seeing that someone values me. I miss that I could trust her with all of me, that I could be the most vulnerable to her. And I’m missing her vulnerable moments and soft explanations of things I don’t understand, her care and affection, her tender side that I think few see. I see her breaking down at the airport and I want to hold her and tell her that it’s okay to break down and okay to be vulnerable, because that’s what matters in this world, nothing else, just truly being with someone. And I want to tell her that I would never hurt her, and that I will always love her. Always because there is nothing I can think of that could overcome this, not even time. I have never been this close to anyone, ever. Nobody loved me this softly, tenderly, truly, like her. I will miss being open. Now that I have seen the gates of heaven it’s hard to see anything else and see value in it. I feel like everything else is just a facade, a gray version of what I saw in full colours, a poor imitation of the true love I had a glimpse of. It’s hard to put this into words, but I miss her more than I miss my own life that I also left behind. I want spend a day with her. Eat breakfast with her. Roll around in bed with her. Explore my new home city with her. Cycle around with her and talk about art, music, love, friendship, sexism, philosophy or just everyday things that bother us. I want to see her calm me down and make me happy. I want see her happy.