Letter Seven

I always seem to find you in my darkest moments. Moments I hope no one else is witness to—when I’m drunk alone in my bed or bleeding in the bottom of my bathtub. After bad grades and dumb texts and dashed hopes. 

That’s when it’s hard to focus on anything but the fact that you don’t wear your glasses anymore. I always loved you in glasses. 

I’m in a constant guessing game with myself, but with you, I know the answer. It was over before it had begun, I was never a name on your list. 

Even now, as I wipe the fog from my mirror and can finally see my path forward, I check if you’re back there. If I wait a little longer will you catch up to me? Can I finally stop carrying this weight by myself?