I miss Santana. I miss her so, so much. Even though I have Sam under my arm, he's not Santana. He's not bitchy, he's not Hispanic, his mouth is too wide, and his hair is too fake, his body isn't curved, he simply is not Santana. He's not the one I love; he's not the one I want.
He's just not Santana. I miss her.
I miss our bickering, I miss her lady kisses, I miss her hands around me, I miss that perfectly soft lips against mine, I miss her tiny but powerful arms around me, I miss our bathtub regime, I miss…her. I just miss her.
I wish the time can go faster and let me go back to Santana's arms. I don't want Sam. This is wrong.
I just want Santana Lopez.