I am not sure whether it was the stubbornness or the impulsive assurance which made us decide to give it a go. We kept thinking of July when I will be back to England for my graduation day. But there would be half a year between the day I left Norwich and July. Would we survive that? We didn’t know. All we knew was that we only had 3 more months together and we only wanted the best memories.
And he had them.
We spent my birthday together, eating KFC. You might not understand what’s so special about having KFC. But it was between him and I. He used to drop me off at the train station in the morning, but he started to wake up earlier to be able to take me in front of my door. Then I just stayed in the morning and do the house chores at his.
We spent the whole christmas holiday together. Had a Christmas dinner with his sister’s family, which was amazing! Surprised him with a Christmas present. Even though I don’t celebrate Christmas, I started to think that maybe there’s magic in it.
I practically lived at his house. There’s nothing happier than seeing his car coming and parking, and watching him walk closer and closer. There’s no better feeling than waiting in front of the door demanding a hug from him. And his reaction and expression, and amazement in his face when he realised I’ve cleaned the house was priceless.
Two weeks before I had to go, the snow was falling. The previous winter I complained about a layer of snow. But that time, I enjoyed walking in the snow. I enjoyed the cold. I enjoyed walking together shivering, knowing that when we got home, I would get the warmest hug from someone that I love.
Now I sound mushy. But without any intention to add drama in this entry, I did cry a lot. A fucking lot. Started three days before my departure.
And every day afterwards. And today.
Of course it is not as hysterical as it was before but, I don’t know why would anyone torture themselves with this kind of misery? I am miserable! Do you think skype, whatsapp, and emails are enough? No they are not. They helped a lot but they are not enough for me. I want to be there, or him to be here. Honestly, it’s not about being in the UK anymore. (Hopefully this would answer those who was curious)
So, when did the M word come up?