Grrr

I’m so mad at you right now for leaving us. For not calling. You had my number, dude. I can’t even begin to express this, because you can’t hear me. You’re never coming back. Not “never coming back” like you’re still out there and maybe think of us once in awhile. Gone.

No more arm-wavingly informative lectures, no more maniacal grins, no more beautiful snapshots. You and your guitar and your code and your funny haircut and your collection of recipes and god damn it. You were supposed to call. You still owed me money for the December phone bill, motherfucker! Come back here! You can keep the money, I don’t care about that. Just come back.

God I miss you. Nobody else better fucking die on me. You hear? No dying.