July 11, 2017, seventeen days since Mitch died

My love,

I hope you know I'm still completely and utterly in love with you.

I'm not doing better.

I cried again today. Forced myself to eat a small breakfast because I know that's what you would've wanted. Still didn't sleep.

I'm so tired. Please let me fall asleep.

Every night I try. I put on another one of your sweatshirts and try to sleep curled in a ball, hugging another sweatshirt to my chest and completely disregarding the fact that it's July.

I don't feel the heat anymore. I don't really feel anything. Except a huge gaping hole in my chest where you used to be.

Sometimes when I'm particularly desperate, I shut my eyes tight and try to imagine you're here.

But, Mitchie, I'm forgetting what your voice sounds like, and that scares me.

I could just watch a Superfruit video, but I know that'll just make it worse.

I wish I could hear your voice one more time.

Yours,

Scott xx