Aneesah’s traveling to England this evening on the red-eye. I drove her to to the airport, and as I was putting her suitcase in the boot of the car, I asked whether she thought it was more sad to be the one leaving, or the one staying. We agreed that it feels worse to leave—although now that I’m sat here alone, missing her, it doesn’t feel much better.
I say “alone” but Cacio is here with me, which does make it less lonely. Right now she’s walking all around the house looking for Aneesah though, which doesn’t make her great company, but does make feel something. She loves Aneesah so much, and I assume likes me enough. If we meet Aneesah from the BART she drags me all the way to the station.
It’s funny, whilst you’re busy doing things your brain lets you forget that you’re apart, but it saves up all of the feelings for when you climb into bed, and wonder how you’ve ever fallen asleep by yourself. That might be a bit dramatic, but I suppose that’s just what love feels like. The good kind of drama, I mean; a West End show, not an argument.