It smells like him.

On Sunday night we went to a concert - the youth group, that is. Had an amazing time. Then, on the way back, he was rather tired, so I let him use my jacket as a pillow.

I haven't worn my jacket since then. I'd almost forgotten, until I put it on tonight because I was feeling some of the chill, from the snow outside, seeping through my window.

And, oh gosh, it smells like him. I can't pull the sleeve away from my face. No joke. It's almost like I'm addicted to his scent; getting high off that ever-pleasant essence.

It's almost as though he's right next to me, his arm barely brushing mine. Somehow I can feel his skin through the fabric of my shirt. And I'm hooked.

I think I need more than a little help.