Every single time

"I realized you weren’t there any more, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me"

It's only been about three days. And I come across at least like ten things a day I would want to tell you. Things that would only make sense telling you, that I would have no one else to talk about with or laugh about it with. I've thought about writing them all down. To keep track. Then I get lazy and convince myself I'll remember them. Lord knows I won't.