Each line of code I write, each note I play, there is something of you. In every word, in every movement, even in the loneliest moments, I feel your presence. Perhaps not in physical form, but it's there, as strong as a silent shadow. The denial of you, and everything that reminds me of you, is almost tangible—a pain that fills every part of my being, that takes shape even in the blank space between my thoughts.
I don't know how I can keep going, how I can wake up and exist without you. I've tried to keep my mind occupied, to disguise the longing with a thousand other things, but it always comes back, relentless. Your name, whispered in the cracks of my thoughts, makes everything seem more intense, more urgent.
The pain, it arrives with the same intensity and persistence, dragging with it the weight of every second. Sometimes, it feels like the world around me spins faster, as if time were a succession of moments shattering, breaking everything that could have been.
That Christmas song, repeated like an echo, only makes the longing sharper. And I can't take it anymore... The exhaustion of the pain takes over me. You're everywhere, in every corner, in every instant. Even the last presentation of the year wasn't enough to push away that weight. In the middle of it all, the pain decided to escape from me—and I couldn't make it come back. I tried, but it trapped me, it paralyzed me. I didn't want the pain to show itself to you, didn't want you to know how much it affects me. So, I turned back. I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas before leaving, but deep down, I don't know if that still matters to you.