i miss my other half. more than is healthy. i see "unknown" flash across my phone and i can just see him in a train station phone booth, face unshaven and blue blue eyes open wide in exclamation, calloused fingertips fumbling with euro change every three minutes or so, back tentatively leaning against the graffitt-ed fiberglass window. overstuffed backpack of random buddhas from street markets and saved pamphlets from prestigious art museums. german books and homework and brightly coloured candy packages. wallet in the back pocket, because he's too naive to think that pickpockets actually exist in real life and not just crime movies. a camera that he never uses - it's better to just form a mental memory photo - sitting on his dresser in his host home.
he calls and it makes my week. he calls and the minutes fly like the plane that took him away from me. he calls and suddenly i know what matters in life.
not the bullshit grade i'm currently receiving in orgo, not the fact that this weekend i politely asked a lifelong love to leave me and he did, not how much i weigh or how bad my hair looks on a particular day.
all that matters is someone misses me just as much as i miss him. i never thought this to be possible, and yet... it is. and i couldn't think of a better person to be missed by, ever.