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January 7, 2011
Ikea don't do Karlstad in stripey anymore. I keep thinking if I could just sit on that sofa and pretend you'll walk through the door any minute, carrying fresh groceries from the farmer's market and calling out "bonsoir mon petit flan"... I can't help hoping that I could make the illusion so perfect it would dull this constant howling pain within me.

Everyone tells me I should allow myself to grieve, get counselling, try to move on. Don't they understand I don't want to? All I want is to live in that moment forever, endlessly awaiting your return.

Six years.