Good night kisses.

I have always kissed my pillow good night every night before I went to sleep. I imagined I was kissing you good night.You'd stir slightly before wrapping your arm around my waist and making yourself comfortable on my arm. I'd use my fingertips to trace the bridge of your nose, cheekbones, jawline, your eyelashes, your eyebrows- God, your eyebrows were my favorite. I'd lean in to kiss you lightly on the nose, then carefully on the forehead. Kisses like these became a prayer, a promise that I'll love you forever. I would hold you close, place kisses after kisses just to make sure that I get to wake up next to you the next morning.

It turns out kisses weren't promises. Ever since you left, I have never stop telling you good night. Every time after I said good night, I would bundle myself up in blankets. I feel cold when I miss you. It's like my body feels the absence of you. I miss interlacing our fingers together. I miss you sleeping on the nook of my armpit. I miss being woken up by you trying to curl up closer to me. The pain became bearable, humming in the background but I have never stopped missing you every night.

Anywhere but here.

Sometimes I have a feeling that I am not where I am supposed to be.
I feel like I should be miles and miles away from where I am right now.
I should be in a tent in the forest, camping with the love of my life
I should be half way across the world, studying or
walking to work, thinking about what to have for dinner.

It's not like I don't plan my life.
I think that was the mistake, planning my life.
When things don't follow "the plan",
everything else falls apart and I am now sitting here,
trying to use the pieces to make a new plan.
I feel like a spider that is only trying to make its web.
I spent time making the strands even,
making sure it's long enough to stretch from this beam to the next.
One more strand, one more and I'm done.
Then, rain poured.
Itsy bitsy spider went out the water spout,
down came the rain and washed the spider out.
That bitsy is me.

I wonder if it is human instinct to keep wanting a better place for yourself.
I keep thinking that I am better than what I am giving myself credit for.
Maybe, maybe I believe if things were different,
I wouldn't be in this much pain.
If I could be anywhere but here,
the timelines could be different then.
If the timelines were different,
I could be walking home,
thinking what I'm going to have for dinner with the love of my life.