repost

People always say that it hurts at night

and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3am

is the romantic equivalent of being heartbroken.

But sometimes

it’s 9am on a tuesday morning

and you’re standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the toast to pop up

And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl gray tea makes you miss them so much

you don’t know what to do with your hands.

Rosie Scanlan, On Missing Them (via halluzinogen)

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