I can’t talk to you directly. I can’t even talk to you indirectly, not anymore. I can’t talk about you, unless I know I can do so in private. But you live in a place, a secret place in my heart, and I wish sometimes that you didn’t. I want you to be happy. Happy with Lauren and happy in your life. I wish you’d never met me. I’m sorry that you did. I wish I would stop overthinking and being obsessive. I think I’m almost able to stop missing you but in its almost absence, there’s this emptiness that I didn’t quite expect. I wish that would stop, too.