I felt like I was missing something. Missing you more. Missing whatever was going to happen next.

One of my best friends is named David Leventhal, and it has always been a constant source of amusement to see how the similarity and differences play out in our lives.

She stays in the same spot, anchored by the profound, desperate loneliness of a bad relationship.

No funny stuff in here tonight, you understand?” Dash said, “I assure you I could not contemplate any of your so-called funny stuff seeing as how I have no idea why I’m even here.” Mark scoffed. “You bookish little pervert.” “Thank you, sir!” Dash said brightly.

Because it is senior year I have begun to see things as potential absences. The things I love will become the things I'll miss.

She asked me what was wrong, and I told her I had to end it. She was surprised, and asked my why I thought so. I told her it wasn't a thought, more a feeling, like I couldn't breathe and knew I had to get some air. It was a survival instinct, I told her. She said it was time for dinner. Then she sat me down and told me not to worry. She said moments like this were like waking up in the middle of the night: You're scared, your'e disoriented, and you're completely convinced you're right. But then you stay awake a little longer and you realize things aren't as fearful as they seem.

You are so close, and I can’t reach you.