My last sleep in my bed, our bed.

I'm laying in bed, avoiding the inevitable.  I'm soaking up the simplicity of my cool, comfortable blankets, while subtly choosing to ignore the reality of having to leave tomorrow.

I want this.  I do.  Once upon a time it was exactly what I wanted.  Going to England was the missing piece of my life puzzle.  Well, maybe not England per se, but perhaps the possibility of stumbling upon some sort of solid meaning there.  England was supposed to be a breath of fresh air - an escape from the  predictable and unsatisfying life I'd reluctantly nestled into.

That is... until I met Jesse.  I realize now that he was that missing piece I'd been searching for.  Shit, that sounds cheesy, but it's true.  He, all too effortlessly, gave my life meaning.  I'd found true love, true happiness, when I found him.  It's cliche, maybe; however, I'll embrace it and announce to the world that I'm in love and flawlessly happy.

So, I'm laying in bed, our bed, trying to memorize everything about this moment: the way my laptop screen shines its illuminating ray onto his face, the soft rumble of the dehumidifier at our feet, the smell of the coconut body scrub Jesse must've showered with today, the comforting gentleness of his hand as it rests on my arm, and the nauseating feeling that boils inside me as I think about leaving all of this behind, temporarily, after tonight.