You're not there.
Not anymore.
I'm the only one left.
You know, since you left, I've never tried to get close to the right side of the bed again.
I'm only on the left side.
I don't have the courage to get close.
I don't have the courage to put my head on that pillow, your favorite.
It still has some of your perfume.
And this thing is slowly killing me.
The bear-shaped doll you gave me, however, is completely broken.
I tore it up with all the strength I had in my body that same evening.
I will never forgive myself for this.
I regretted it so much.
I tried to fix it as much as I could, but it didn't help.
It will never return to its initial shape.
Now do you understand what state my heart is in?
It's broken.
And the thing that hurts the most is that it can never go back to beating as hard as it did when I was with you.