I went to read some of his poetry, I shouldn't have.

I should just leave him alone, forget he ever existed and wipe every memories I have of him . I should.

But it was thursday night and I was lonely, so i checked. Maybe i just wanted to make myself a bit miserable, who knows.

He hasn't posted anything in a long time, hope he didn't stop, he was really good. Hope I could tell him that. The only thing I saw was a comment, something about cliche and how he seemed to understand them.

For a moment, it's like everything stopped and I remembered exactly why I liked him .

I started crying, because it was so beautiful, flawed, but somewhat perfect, just the way I used to see him.

And it hit me, i miss him.

I miss him, I miss his dry humor, his stubborn little kid attittude and the way he'd say snausage instead of sausage. I miss him and the thousands of little things that made him... him.

I wonder how it's like where he is ? Does he think about me sometimes ? When it's late at night and he's feeling lonely, does he look at what I wrote too ?

It's dumb to even ask myself, he's not and I know that. He's better, happier without me, and in the end it's all I want. I hope she makes him happy, more than I could.
Irregularthinking Irregularthinking
18-21, F
Aug 22, 2014