dear reece -
i miss you like i've never missed anyone else in my life. if i had one wish, i'd waste it on you.
you shouldn't live in north dakota, but you shouldn't live here in ohio either.
let's open up a restaurant in santa fe.
i'm serious. this isn't just my crazy rent-loving heart talking. it's a good idea, baby.
i promise i won't call you baby ever again.
but you could make the food and i could serve it all, you could tend a bar and i could throw back shots. in santa fe, because i could turn tan in the sun, naturally.
and we'd be so far away from everything: your parents, my parents, my impossible friends, all of those faulty relationships.
we never had much luck with love.
and all over the place, we could write our poetry. we'll serve tea and instead of bread, we'll set out bowls of lucky charms for people to eat before their meals.
sometimes, at night, in between thoughts of ex-boyfriends, i think about you. and i'll get this aching somewhere really deep inside of me. i'll think of your smile and how sweet you always were, how much i miss you.
a long time ago, you said you'd always have my back. you'd be there for me. thank you. it meant a lot.
i don't think you should major in physics. i think you should be a poet. or a musician. you'd make it. you have a glow that draws people in.