I feel good all the time.
Constantly.
I think it’s because I’ve been doing a lot of drinking lately.
Day drinking, night drinking.
Am I coping for something? Am I trying to blur you out? I remember you; But only in short painful bursts – like as if you set your phasers from kill to stun.

This isn’t easy. I know I come off as this being easy for me, baby, this is so hard.
The amount of times I’ve brought you up today is absolutely pathetic.

Someday I’ll know why I wasn’t meant for you. Someday I’ll know why you didn’t fight for me.

But I hope that you find the right one.
I hope she loves you for the weird way you brush your teeth and for the way you love the smell of cinnamon brooms.
I hope she makes sure you take your medication, and cooks you breakfast on Saturday mornings.
I hope she likes Mexican food and watching shows on Netflix.
I hope she knows that your lips shake when your upset, and that you will always, no matter what, open the car door for her.
I sincerely hope.

I don’t miss you. I don’t miss anything.