You began to cry, just crying. The deep and ugly kind, the kind you lose yourself in; though you’re thanking God that no one has to see how rubbed and blotched your face becomes. Though, some detached part of you also wishes there was someone there to see you now, to see and understand just how sad you are at heart. They don’t see it and of course, you would never show them that side of you.
Sometimes I have the strangest feeling about you. Especially when you are near me as you are now. It feels as though I had a string tied here under my left rib where my heart is, tightly knotted to you in a similar fashion. And when you go to Ireland, with all that distance between us, I am afraid that this cord will be snapped, and I shall bleed inwardly.
I like to see people reunited, I like to see people run to each other, I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can't tell fast enough, the ears that aren't big enough, the eyes that can't take in all of the change, I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone. - Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer