Drunk off my fifth whiskey sour and third shot of cinnamon flavored whiskey after a southern rock concert I dragged my friends to on a school night.
Finally home and lying in bed at 4 am.
I swear this is the third time I've seen this episode of Sportscenter tonight.
I stare with soaked eyes at pictures of you and I'm missing those Japanese pearls of a smile.
The ones my grandfather brought home from the war but were stolen when a thief entered my parents home back in 04 the night after the Sox finally won it all.
I'm missing the hint of a Torontonian accent I'd catch you say on certain words.
I miss the times we never met.
And the weekend trips we had planned to meet.
I miss the money that I put aside halfway through my trip to Southern California to come see you that's now been spent on ***** and Waffle House.
The fact that the cheerleaders from your university came into my work tonight and that Rob Ford is everywhere on TV doesn't help.
Now all I do is check and make sure you're alright on the last social media website you haven't blocked me from.
And now all I can do is call out of work and turn my TV off.
And I only hope that you have found someone that is making you happy.
Someone into cooler music with a bigger record collection.
Someone who isn't as jealous that you send photos to all the boys.
Someone who helps you through all your teenage problems at the age of 23.
Someone who accepts you for who and what you are.
I can only hope he rearranges his plans and changes for you.