Thank you

Thank you, Vikki.

Thank you for being my wife, my therapist, my friend.

Thank you for listening so patiently to the details of my confused and fucked up life,thank you for listening and then making me laugh.

Thank you for not letting there be an awkward silence, like there usually is, when you mention death in a conversation.

Vikki, we are shared platters of pancakes in the late afternoon, we are long evenings sitting by the river or in our bandstands.

We are the smell of hairdye and chinese food and free periods in college spent walking all the way to your house to watch five minutes of a film before walking back again.

We are pages and pages of doodles across my school notes and Triple Ace Tattoo Studio and sleepovers spent watching scary as fuck horror films.

We are hours at Pinners and in the geography room and in the park.

We are conversations without an end.

Love you lots. Miss you lots.