I would probably always say this but he made waking up in the morning such a beautiful thing. Because that made the difference you know, for someone who hates it. For someone who fucking thinks it’s an every day tragedy. It was so important to me. That feeling. That urge to live each day, really live and not watch life waste away.
That constant wish to just die in sleep each night. It dies instead with that thrill to see each other in dreams, and the consequent promise of tomorrow– that which lowers the number of days ’til I see him again, for real.
That was, to me, magical. And imagine magic happening to you every day. There is nothing like it.