Night 1

The night has passed.

One of the most difficult nights that I've ever had to weather through. 

Seeing you with your luggage, seeing you check-in, seeing you enter that departure hall, seeing you stand at the customs counter, seeing you wave me goodbye, seeing you walk towards gate A11.

Going home without you was worse, getting down those steps alone, getting into the elevator alone, getting myself into the house alone, getting into our room alone, getting into bed alone.

I'm so sorry I couldn't hold back my tears, it began trickling as soon as I saw you turn after your last goodbye wave. The trickle turned to a endless gush once I got into the taxi. And though I wanted to stop when you FaceTime-d me, I couldn't. I'm sorry. 

The tears just kept racing down my face like an endless waterfall, I have no idea where the supply came from, I have no idea where the strength to cry came from, nor do I know where sleep was hiding, it might have been sick of my wails, as the thing I knew, it punched me in the face and knocked me out.

I awoke at 7.45am without the help of the alarm that Siri set for me, as that damned piece of technology ran out of charge during the night. 

I felt like a robot, going through the motions, knowing where you'd be if you were around, placing you in the room with my imagination, and erasing you to accept that you weren't there.

I miss you so much that it hurts so bad. Night 1 of 115 has passed. I will look to this Day 1 without you with the objective of survival, to survive this day without too many tears, without too many falls.

The aircraft you're in is probably about to begin it's descend into Doha. I just passed Orchard MRT.