indiboi.com

I dove into clearing out one of the closets in the lounge this morning, finding mostly burnable trash. So here I am, standing outside in the middle of the night/morning, the sky is clear and directly above me is Orion. The last time I was standing around the “hobo barrel” at night was with Cole, burning the cartons the dryer and dishwasher came in. It was so ghetto, but still so enjoyable, because we were eating chicken fingers while burning that cardboard, lol.

It’s so incredibly difficult when you’re so angry with someone you love, and that anger has stemmed from worry. It would be too simplistic to blame my unhappiness on him, because through August and September I have had these memories of Davey flooding back to me. Right when I needed someone around most, when I really needed someone there to just… well, be supportive, he took off, but not without first burdening me with all sorts of justified concern for him.

Anyway, the idea of an unsent letter is that it is never sent, a way of venting off in either positive or negative ways, and for me to post it, in this case, is to send it. While I mean every sentence, I’m not ready.