My fingertips constantly trace the wind, thirsty for the feeling of his skin. They are contemplating, planning the perfect time--he drops his hand, I drop I mine. And they collide. Goosebumps rise on my skin, and for a brief moment I forget about the pain in my chest, the hole in my world. Breathing him in is enough to give me false hope. The scent of his skin is enough to act as a lie. I'm sorry for my selfishness, but friendship will not exist in a world where I am constantly reminded of the things that I do not and cannot have. I will never hate him, I will never not love him. I just have to remember who Amanda is by herself before I can live in a world with someone that used to be her other half.