I’m sitting on the walkway, smoking a cigarette, watching the stars; thinking of you. I’m reminiscent of when we laid out here doing the same exact thing, except a prolonged addition of past drunken ramblings that resonate with me now. I miss your voice, and the way your laugh sounded beside me. I miss knowing I could turn to you in the same room. I guess I just miss you tonight. I’ll keep this with myself, but I want myself to remember that I missed you yesterday, I miss you now, and I’ll miss you tomorrow.