I was just remembering how I always used to sleep on the left hand side of the bed, near the wardrobe and would always end up injuring myself by whacking my arm into it or head butting the stupid thing from laughing and cringing at something silly or weird you had done or said. You would always roll closer to me and ask if I'm okay and kiss the spot where I had hurt myself and I'd always punch you playfully, trying to blame you for my awkward clumsiness. Then you would shuffle to your edge of the single bed, pull me close to you and away from the wardrobe and pat my head. We would use this opportunity to just enjoy the silence or to talk about random things. It was so cute. Like something you would find in a cheesy PG rom-com movie. But when I rolled over a moment ago, I felt like I was with you for one moment and opened my eyes, only to the awkward and sad realisation that I was just imagining it. You're not next to me, rolling a joint and watching a film. You're in Portugal probably fucking some other girl or something. My heart literally dropped when your face wasn't there when I opened my eyes. That's really fucked me up.
