It seems that all I ever do is pine over guys. I should be writing songs, and making a gazillion bucks like Taylor Swift or Adele.

~*~*~*

Two weeks in April and here I am still wishing you would magically appear at my doorstep. I've made some changes since then: attempted rock climbing and hiking, and gotten a better-paying job. A little better fit for you, but not much. I bet you never even gave me a second thought afterwards.

You are earth to me: strong, stable, grounded. I didn't realize I needed that. And you aren't coming back. I wish I understood you better.

I know it's stupid and pathetic, but I miss you, Derrick. I miss you a lot, and I know I shouldn't anymore.