Years later, and still it feels like I'm drifting alone through space. The stars bump me as I pass, but none stop my orbit long enough to mean a thing. Every little thing makes me think of him, as the years pass. The color purple. The city- any city. Gardens. Space. Laughter. Airplanes passing overhead. I could tear out my lungs screaming, but he would never hear. The cosmos are too deep, too big, and all sound is lost. I miss him, I hate him, and it's my fault.
