goodbye, goodbye

So there has been a gap in things because time runs by too quickly here. I'm coming to you from the lovely French Rivera seaside town of Nice, also known as where we could have been. The above however, is our forced week at the Lake District where we scaled mountains and conquered rooms and what not. One semi drunkard night, running home from the pub and exploiting the opportunities of an abandoned lounge. On a much cleaner note (okay so showers aren't that clean), other noteworthy memories include: holding hands and running down a poopy hill, peeing in the mountains, bunking in together and general puffiness. Such is camp life. By now, all our separate #europe2013 has begun and we've all left to discover different cities with different people. Our last few days at Elgar court flew by with an intense ache in my heart, dreading the day we had to leave. Standing alone in the airport after months of building a life there, the only person I could think of was you. It's amazing how quickly things (read: people) just rotate themselves in your head. But that's a different story for a different day. The above depicted a time when we were still fresh and always in each other's company. A time where nothing mattered more than what activities we'd be complaining about doing that day. The days that followed our mindless camp was nothing less than blissful, sadly. The nights were even better, drunk off schnappz and my youth. What you said was what I pretended not to hear but it still counts. Three hundred thoughts about that but for now, my hotel bed and the rest of the French Rivera awaits me. Let it be said that I am thinking about you, and I know you are thinking about me. I just want to know if you're also thinking about her.

Now you've been talking in your sleep

things you never say to me