I see it going away. I just stand there and watch it continues its race and fades away. And I can’t stop it you know. It’s like trying to stop and catch a train on its race. You can’t man ! You can just stare at the windows with tears dropping out of your blurry eyes as you try to see what’s in those wagons. 
People always say that it hurts at night and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3am is the romantic equivalent of being heartbroken. But sometimes it’s 9am on a Tuesday morning and you’re standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the toast to pop up. And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl gray tea makes you miss him so much you don’t know what to do with your hands.
— Rosie Scanlan, “On Missing Them” (via fxk-love)

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