September is and always will be the worst month.

September sucks. 4 years ago on September 19th, Andrew Basham died... Andrew my first love. Andrew the best, nicest guy I've ever met... Andrew with the wonderful hugs for all... Andrew with the great kisses... Andrew with the biggest smile... Andrew who loved me and would've done anything for me in the world. Andrew who on his dying day, hugged me, kissed me on the cheek and told me that he missed me.... As I bawl my eyes out while typing this... as the tears soak the keys... I know they'll pass in a few minutes and I'll be smiling and laughing thinking back to times with him. Times when things were simple. Simple... Amazing.... Perfect. You would think that it would get easier to come to terms with the fact that he is gone. But it doesn't. It's still hard. I just wish that one day I will hear a knock on my door, and when I answer it I'll see his tall figure, a Led Zepplin shirt, his mess of curls, his brilliant smile, his bright blue eyes, and that he'll give me one of those big hugs and a kiss that would make my heart skip a beat... Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if he was still here... how things would be. I know it sounds crazy but sometimes I can actually feel him here with me... Maybe I'm just imagining how good his hugs feel but when I begin to think back to memories and miss him... I feel him. I feel his presence. I freaking smell him. I miss him more that words could ever express... I love you Andrew Scott Basham. RIP.

I wish I could just sleep through September and really have someone wake me up when it ends.