You're my favorite person.

Several months ago we used to talk how miserable my life is under the moonlight of a park. You used to tell me words of wisdom and lending your ears made you admirable.

Several months ago you used to notice the color of my eyes, the smile between my little dimples, my small hand and my pinky toes. You used to notice little details about me and my heart was filled with appreciation.

Several months ago we used to share thoughts of our future and of our past beneath the million stars with a mucho bottle of beer. You used to tell me how you feel and so do I.

You're still my favorite person.

My life's still miserable at times but we're too busy growing up. I miss your words of wisdom and you listening to my dilemmas and fears.

I still look the same. The color of my eyes, the dimples and my smile, the small hand and my pinky toes. They need you. They need to be noticed again. They feel the need to be relevant. To you.

I have more thoughts of my future now and I'm counting the days go by. I have so many words to tell you. I have so many feelings towards life to share with you. But I cannot even drink a bottle of beer. I cannot even share a good moment with you.

Do you miss me?