It's close to being three months since I've had my world spin out of control and I like to believe that I have made some progress. I no longer mull obsessively over what ifs, nor do I entertain the idea of an altered reality anymore either. The heaviness that sat on my chest like a never-ending nightmare waiting to strike the moment I closed my eyes and allowed myself to dream has all but disappeared. I don't actively go search for specific songs so I can mourn to get all of the sadness out of my body because I could no longer contain it. I no longer pray for a miracle.

However, I know deep down that the battle is far from being won, that the regret and bitterness of having to live in a world devoid of your light still lingers at the corners of my mind, simply asleep for the time being, but we shall cross that bridge when we get to it.

I know I am not a dam waiting to break right now, yet with the fast approaching Dome concerts and the idea of seeing the impact December 18th has had on our world and reality, I feel exactly like one. I will try to be strong, though, for myself and for you and for them, because that's what us humans do, what we've always done: adapt and prevail, overcome our circumstances and deal with the situations we are thrown in. I shall do exactly that.

I'm not sure I have whole heartedly accepted what has happened that day, I'm not sure the time has come, either. Baby steps are just as important as leaps of faith, of that I am very much aware so I am thankful that my soul has patched itself a little bit for now.

I started writing again, which is awesome. It hasn't been that long since I decided to write again more frequently and more determinedly, but that day has been a huge drawback from me. I fixed my sleeping schedule and I honestly feel a thousand times better, like I knew I would. Recovery is a mental routine, a self-imposed schedule that you must follow until it becomes ingrained in your cells and muscle memory. I've begun working on my slight hoarding issues, started writing in that pretty notebook I've kept for ages until that special moment came, burned those candles I've collected for years, but never touched, small progress, slow, but there. Bumps still exist ahead, but I'm good, better than I was yesterday and the days before that and worse than I will be tomorrow.

I hope to start saying your name in my prayers without feeling like choking. I wish for the day I will initiate a discussion with you that won't end in surrowful tears and breath-taking regret, the night when staring at the moon won't remind me that now the distance between us is far bigger, yet shorter than before. A moment when I won't write to you regarding my progress with my grief or having to mention my mourning process.

A regret I carry with me is that I never thought of writing to you before all of this. It's funny how things gain most importance after loss, how only when compared do they gain value. I suppose I never thought there would come a day when the chance of saying it directly to you will disappear, never understood exactly how much you have helped me overcome so many things. I do know now, so I suppose there's that.

Anyways, it's late here, half past midnight, but I want to stick to my improved sleeping schedule so I'll stop here for now. My life lacks the excitement it once had when people I knew and cared about were only a call away from an improptu outing, but some have come during their inter-semestrial break and I plan on exploiting that to the best of my abilities. Also, it's snowing still here so if you do come to rest for a bit in my dreams, dress warmly, get a blanket just in case. 

I love you, then, now and forever.