I've lost track of how long its been since I got back. Some days I don't think about it at all. Other days I can't think about anything else.
Every day, even when I'm not thinking about "it", I feel it. It doesn't leave. That it's there even when I'm not seeing their faces and when I've stopped counting the days leads me to believe it's not going to go away any time soon.
When I shift my mind to think about them, I hear them. I see them. I smell them. And I am transported. My clock registers four hours later than what it actually says, and I am there. I am staring at the sky, flying down a dirt road on a motor bike, being followed by crowds of children in the market, running like a fool down a dryed out soccer field, pounding nails into rediculously hard wood, sitting in the dark with someone I didn't have enough time to really get to know. I am sipping instant coffee as the morning arrives. I am staring at the most beautiful people I have ever seen, except I can't see them because its dark out.. and there are no lights.
My senses were more in tune there.
Every time I look at the photos they seem farther away. I hate that, so I don't look at them nearly as much as I used to. Saying "it hurts too much" sounds cliche and overdramatic, but it's the truth. When I look back at them, when I force myself to stop and remember, I hurt. And as much as I don't want that to ever stop, I need to move forward. I can't forget about them, and I won't, but I also know that I need to keep going..
I've spent so many days wishing I was there.
But it's time to be here.
My mind needs a shift. But Dear Heart, please don't ever, ever forget*