For some reason right now I’m thinking about how I miss that really shitty apartment on 8th and 23rd and how you used to say ridiculous things to me in your sleep and how I took you to work every day and cooking vegan dinners and playing Fallout and drinking boxed wine and watching Boss freak out over hidden objects under blankets and Wristcutters almost every night until we both fell asleep on the couch and sitting in the middle of the living room screaming our lungs out to Johnny Hobo and smoking tons of cigarettes and early mornings sitting next to the open oven reading books trying to stay warm and bringing you sprite and orange juice on weekend mornings and…

you.