It's been a year.

Already.

I wrote you something but can't bring myself to post it. I know that you know that there's no concept of 'going back home' for me anymore. Home was you for me, like it has been for twenty years. And now its just a place where we stay. It will always be empty now. So anchor-less.

And I cant seem to explain it to anyone else, even in my head. So I'm going to keep it with me.

There's so much reproach sometimes, you were supposed to be there.

Ugh.