Things I Could Never Tell You

52, 53, 54

Text #52.

February 20, 10:39 am.

Saudade. In Portuguese, it's the feeling of longing for someone who you love and which is lost. I guess that sums it all.

Text #53.

February 21, 4:43 pm.

I remember when we used to hang out on random times at McDonald's. It was another of our traditions. You'd let me use your sweatpants and you'd use your basketball hoodie. I remember how you'd always put a beanie on my head and a cap on yours. And we'd just go there. It was our Hobo Day of the week. You'd order a Big Mac and a McFlurry and I'd order a Happy Meal. After we'd drive back home and watch cartoons. I have no idea why, but today I drove there, sat on the same seat you'd sit and ordered the same food you'd order. I know it's pretty crappy and pathetic, but somehow, it feels like I'm close to you or something like that. Damn, I'm turning into the mushy person I swore I'd never be.

Text #54. 

February 22, 11:02 pm.

Mom ordered me to go and buy a notebook for her to write down her recipes. Growling, I walked to the store placed on the end of the street and when I was about to grab the notebook, pay and go back home, something caught my attention. It was a journal, the same ones they use for school and the same ones that we'd also use. We'd write our names and just random stuff, like places Wed like to go, pictures and quotes. I kept looking at it and flashbacks attacked my mind with every blink. I broke down silently there and still forgot to grab the damn notebook.