You wrote me today, and I’m afraid. It’s to the point, clean, showing little emotion. As a paper laid bare, with text but without meaning, I have trouble understanding it. It surpasses my capacity to understand as I stand baffled and sad.

I miss your touch… I miss you gently caressing me for no reason but to touch me. Lately I have been having this kopfkino of you arriving at the airport and me hugging you, kissing you, whispering into your ear that I love you. It’s so good to say that to you. Somehow really beautiful, mesmerizing, uplifting, truly magnificent. I miss saying it to you. I remember the first time you told me that you loved me. On that pillow, next to me, lying, and changing my life forever.

Lately I became jealous. I’m afraid that others want you, that you’ll love others, that you’ll fall in love and forget me, us. I’m afraid you won’t be here, for me, once the wait is over and I’ll see you again. I’m afraid of loosing you.