It's December and Holt got a contract to take pictures in Paris.
He's never travelled out of the country or taken the plane so he's pretty stressed out, but excited about the opportunity. I'm happy for him.
After he's gone though, I keep thinking that he'll meet a fancy Parisian lady that'll do fucked up shit in bed with him and he'll never want to come back home.
I slightly hyperventilate any time I think about that.
It's pretty strange being in the apartment without him. I wonder if this is how Holt felt when I was gone all the time for my documentary. It's pretty depressing.
I didn't have time to miss Holt when I was doing my documentary. I was always busy. Now I have work and projects, but nothing pressing so I have way too much time to pine. Sometimes I'll sit in the living room and stare at the turned off TV and just miss Holt. The apartment is too big, too quiet without him. Everything feels empty. I don't think I really function correctly without him around.
The very deranged and obsessed part of me wants to go curl up on his bed and sniff his pillow, but the more rational part of my brain says, calm yo tits thot.
Holt is always a constant in my life, because I always think of him, just waiting at home for me, but that's not going to be the case forever. Holt isn't going to be waiting at home for me forever.
He's starting to live his own life. He's not waiting for me so maybe I should stop waiting for him too.