if i could write you a final memo, i'd include the names of all the places i almost saw with you. i'd add the post script to explain the scalding ache of a lover's silence. i'd send it right before the morning dew set in. it's not that i am particularly adept at facing the pathetic madness in this world. but rather that it's the same madness that is revealed again and again. the only difference is that it's amplified each and ever time. as i wait patiently for the fatal, telling blow, i smile because i have lost a war with no sides.

i could talk about how you always leave, but i could also talk about how you always come back. sometimes i feel like the time in between is just a slow torture to make me appreciate you more. and sometimes i feel like the time in between is just the world's way of breaking my heart. "The world breaks us all. Afterward, some are stronger at the broken places." -Ernest Hemingway am i stronger in the broken places? i don't know. i wish i could say yes, but i can't for certain. i'm still so young. and you're still a boy, though legally you're a man. will i love you forever? probably. will you eventually leave for good? probably. i know i sound trite, but i really can't help it. i just keep looking at an even younger, less broken version of myself and sighing because i'll never be like that again. i wish i could send a message back in time to tell myself that everything gets much worse so i'd have been prepared. i'm still not ready for this awful pain in my chest. hell, i don't think i ever will be. i'll do my best to keep going, though. i don't have anything else, but i hope that will change soon. the world has a funny way of giving you what you need, and taking away what you want.