I wanted to ask for a minute now if you’re doing alright, not because it’s extremely noticeable but you’re quieter and less interested in things. It’s not something that you can put into words either, but it’s a look in your eyes like you need more, like you don’t see the light like you used to. We don’t talk like we used to, and when we do I just take up all the silence with my thoughts. I don’t know if I’m giving you enough space to share or if I’m making it all about me. I don’t have a need to know what it is, but it’s digging at me to make sure that you can handle whatever it is. And if it’s important to you then it’s important to me, because you matter to me and I notice. I miss the old look you had, and I miss hearing what’s happening in your head.
I miss you.
Do you remember when I used to bring cigarettes and you’d make tea, and we’d sit outside for hours discussing anything and everything. It was all out in the open and it was all easier to keep track of when you were listening. I learned so much about you and everything you thought about was in my head, we would sit and offer advice and grow the conversation past menial problems to grand concepts that made everything else bearable.
That was my favorite part of every day.
The end of some eras make everything else bitter. Remembering what used to bring me so much joy. And now I don’t know what does, and I’m not sure if you know this or if you feel it too, but I’m positive it’ll come back. Whatever makes sense to us at any given time will make its way back. And we’ll survive it.