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«It's hard.
It's hard to wake up and find only sheets wrapped around my fist when I was used to wake up with your fingers interwined with mine.
It's hard to wake up and finding myself lying on a simple cushion when I was used to sleep on your chestand your arms wrapped around my body.
It's hard to wake up with only white as first thing, especially when I was so used to wake up and find my eyes drowing in the blonde of your hair. You were never awake before me or, at least, you used to fake sleeping so I would end being the one cooking the breakfast. Then you would complain about my coffee, you would say thatit was always too strong but you liked it anyway. You loved being cuddled, being taken care of and I loved doing it.
I loved taking care of you.
It's hard, mostly, waking up knowing that it is going to be another day spent inside your absence. There are times when this seems like a huge weight on my chest, ready to crush me and those are the moments when my mind pretend not to know the reason why I can't find you. I panic, nervously and frantically I look for you with my eyes and my hands but I only come up with empty air. And then, then it takes only a glance to Kevin and everything comes back, brightly and lethaly like only a stab can be.
I breath again.
Even if I feel guilty about it, even if I feel like I'm the worst criminal in this world.
So I read your letter again and remind myself that I shouldn't feel this way, that I'm not a bad person for doing that. I remind myself that it's what you wanted me to do so I keep breathing, inhaling and exhaling air like it's the first time my lungs and oxigen came in contact.
Yesterday I've talked about you.
For the first time, I've talked to the outside world about the most amazing man I've been blessed to have by my side for so many years. It was strange, I didn't even want to be there in the first place. All I wanted was to be at home, wrapped inside your sweater and watch again some of your, our, interviews. Do you know what's my favorite? The one where you couldn't say «documentary» right.
- The laughter that time, that very first time, escaped naturally like it had never had before. It tickled his throat, he felt it as it went up until it caressed his lips, searching for an escaped that would been granted. Like all of his body was waiting for that moment. The tickle expanded inside all the veins, bringing a new breath of life. - What I love about that day isn't on the camera, 'cause no one was recording in that moment: your pout beccause we were making fun of you; your smile when I started trying to lift you up.
It's strange telling you this now but... I have to thank you.
Thank you for coming into my life.
Thank you for changing it in ways that I still can't understand.
Thank you for loving me.»