6,600 miles. without you, this is what it feels like.
This is either the best idea, or worst idea, ever.
The summer was an endless array of drives out of town, rest stops, new friends, laying on the sand, drunk and talking about boys, men, crying over how things could be how they were some times. Passing the bottle one too many nights, and refusing to settle for less, we were getting too old for it. I went to Seattle for the first time, in part, to see if I could consider living there. I was looking for a life out west, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, so anywhere on the coast would be all right. And then there was you. I wasn’t going to put weight on something that was a decade behind us now, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say, the thought had crossed my mind, now that we were older.
She’d said, sometimes, she wished it could just work with someone old, there’s a sense of familiarity, safety, and there’s none of that exhaustion over having to know someone new. But then again, there’s no surprise.
We’re not meant to be, or anything, but in later years, I would consider you, I would wonder, if only it were that easy. Then I wouldn’t have to look anymore.
For the first time, in almost ever, I was the only girl of my girl friends without a guy problem. We all found that strange.
We’ve got each other.
What would I do without you guys?
You’d be sober.