The things we can't control

August 22nd

5:02 pm

I lied.

I'm not fine. 

I feel like there is death in my lungs. My mom doesn't care, and my dad's never around. You're my only sort of medicine, and you're not here.

Congrats on getting your license. I hope you're having a good time in Paris with her. The city of love, huh? Or so I've heard.

I remember when we talked about going to Paris together. How we'd rant about travelling the world, something we both loved. Then she came along.

Yeah, I'm happy for you. But that doesn't mean it's not also killing me.

I'm so alone right now, this whole week actually. Since you left. My mind is spinning, I'm not thinking straight. I'm thinking the worst, stupid things that can't be true. Like, when you come home tomorrow, will she be your new best friend? Because we haven't talked the whole time you've been gone. See, stupid things that can't be true.. Right? 

I haven't called, or texted you yet, because I'm waiting for you to miss me. But maybe that's stupid, I should stop being so proud, I'm sure you know how proud I can get.

Right now, I feel a ghostly touch of where your arms used to be when you hugged me before you left. And I hear a ghostly whisper of the last words you said to me, 

"I'll miss you."

Do you?

Do you miss me?

Oh I'm crazy.

7:35 pm

I don't know what hurts more, the pain in my lungs or the pain of you being gone.