Normally I'd look over the pictures I still had of you, but I forced myself to delete them months ago. I reread all the old messages on canvas with you, but that just made me miss you more. I tried listening to the "podcast" assignment we did on those books for English class, but hearing your voice hurt. Do you remember the nights I'd wake up from nightmares, and we'd call, and I'd fall asleep listening to your voice or whatever classical music you were listening to while working on your assignments? I remember. I remember that you liked the lights in your room set to blue. I remember that the pictures I loved the most of you were the ones you felt the most insecure about- the ones with your real smile, not the fake one you put on just for pictures. They looked almost identical, but your eyes would sparkle in the ones where you were holding plushies or that one where you were holding what looked like a banana chip. I hate it, but I can still see every single picture in my head. I still remember everything.
YOU ARE READING
Emotional Shit
NonfiksiJust some random (not random) stuff I wrote about a person that doesn't matter to me (they matter a lot and I can't stop thinking about them and missing them)
