i go to sleep, i wake up. i distract myself by writing; but it’s hard to write when my muse is you. i’ve almost completed the entire book of kafka on the shore. i manage to get a lot of reading done; but at the same time, i also read into a lot of other things. my mind tends to run wild. i thought that if i were to talk less to you, if i were to distance myself, i would stop thinking of you, i would stop missing you. but it only makes me miss you more. i see you in everything, i wonder if it’s the same for you? you appear in random intervals of my day. i miss you. i’m trying though, to miss you less. but i still miss you. when will this dull ache ever go away? when will this distinguished emptiness disappear? i miss you. i will stop playing nonchalant if you were to come back to me. i miss you more than ever, i hope you’re doing fine.