Most of the time, I'm happy, and I walk around the town with a grin the size of Cheshire Cat's. I say "hello," to the people around me, I wave to the people I know and have fun at work. I laugh with my sister and I pig out while watching our favourite shows on Netflix. I joke with my friends and enjoy my time outside in the sun. My music blares in my ears and I silently sing along to old songs I used to belt out in my bedroom. Sometimes I'm sad. I cry when no one is watching, and wipe my tears on the closest thing I can grab; from a tissue to my shirt. I walk around town with my head tucked into my chest. I avoid people and try my best to put on a brave face at work. I smile when necessary, but it's nothing but a mask; an illusion. I bury myself in books and keep myself away from anything emotional. If I cry, at least I have a book to blame it on. Sometimes I'm empty. I feel like something is missing; someone is missing. I keep thinking that I will see you walk passed my bedroom door. That I'll turn the corner and you'll be there watching TV. I keep imagining that you being gone is just a dream; that it's not really this quiet... But it is. And I have been empty for 295 days. I keep thinking that I will wake up and not feel the concave in my chest that has slowly been growing. I thought time was supposed to heal everything; when in reality, it just makes it easier to breathe. So, another night passes by, and tears have, once again, stained the lenses of my glasses. I try to sleep with the images of the moments we shared together. I try to sleep while my heart, mind and soul misses you.