Looking through old photos got me thinking.

When something is alive, you take it for granted when you see it moving about, breathing, being a brat... Things that you expect from a living thing.

And suddenly when he's gone, all you have are photographs and memories.

All i have now are photographs and memories.

I stare at his pictures sometimes, trying to remember what it felt like to touch him, to smell him, to feel his warmth.

I keep trying to remember what the patterns on his back looked like... And i can't seem to.

I stare at photographs of him, trying to recall how he moved and sounded... But these memories grow faint and distant.

I fear one day i shall completely forget the very things that endeared him to me.

Losing something you love really sucks.

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