I should’ve been kinder to you in your last days in the hospice, even though seeing your crackly skin and disconnected, otherworldly gaze always tied the knot in my throat. But I can’t afford to let you see me cry when you were going to make the trip to the other side. I had to appear happy for you in the day when you were mulling over the many relationships you had in the past, and the people who died whom you would reconnect with. Strangely enough, even when you used to tell me all those stories about your mom throwing plates at your face, pulling your hair, screaming at the top of her lungs at 2 AM, you still wanted to see her. You had a really rough life. I should’ve given you more than I did.
I’ll admit, it’s hard not to cry when you see a person half-dead with pus seeping out of the mouth, smelling stale and metallic and have the most trivial conversation. I tried to come as often as I could muster emotionally. I don’t know if that was enough for you. At that point when I cared enough to wonder, I could never find out. I’m sorry. You’re in a better place, being treated how you deserve to.
I fucking love you, but our consequences really piss me off. I get jealous whenever you mention having a close call with another girl, but I can’t do jack shit. Your girlfriend is sweeter than apple pie, and I love her, but she can’t stop talking about you and her times with you, which also sets off the envy. It’s fine – I’ll wait for the feelings to pass.
You’re kind of a creep, but I sometimes think of you and I want to talk to you for 5 hours like we used to in the good old days. You’re really cute, too, but we can’t be together for reasons we both understand. I wish you all the best and not to be too sad about your situation, you figure things out like this really quickly. I’m actually only writing this because we haven’t had a heart-to-heart in a while. I just miss you, man. Maybe I’m not over it yet even, but what can I do?
I know you like to use and abuse your freedom, but the people you hang out with are boring and aimless junkies, and you know it. Fuck, there are drug addicts who are at least fun, creative, batshit crazy, and if you want, I know some – however, spice users are never that. You’re above them, and you deserve to know people on your wavelength who are as smart as you are. I can’t see you often because I don't visit your city that much, but believe me when I say I wish I undePost too long. Click here to view the full text.