inside i'm dancing.

Hey Panda. I miss you more than I’ve ever missed anything in my life.

You know I never thought I would be the one writing your eulogy, considering the fact that I am, as you often reminded me, a granny seven years (it’s actually six and a half, dumbie) older than you, but this is the hand fate has dealt us so I’ll attempt to do it to the best of my ability. I hope you won’t mind that I’m addressing it to you because it’s the only bearable way of writing it; talking about you in the third person is distilled pain, a hundred proof agony the likes of which I’ve never experienced before and I can’t help being glad that you won’t ever have to feel it because someday when I’m gone, we’ll finally meet again.

I could fill the world with things we planned on doing and won’t be able to, but I’m not going to dwell on them today. Instead, I will focus on the things we did in those thirty-two months of texting, talking on the phone and having five-hour-long Skype calls, and one glorious month we spent living together and hugging every chance we got to make up for all the hugs (because you’re an adorable cuddle-monster and I’m just comfy to cuddle with) we were unable to have because of the miles that separated us.

So here goes: