We were planning on drinking white wine when I got back, remember? You died, so here I am, drinking that white wine alone and thinking of you. I miss you so much.
You once said that if you died, nobody but one or two would miss you. I don’t know about others, but it’s been almost 3 months since you died and I still cry everyday for you.
You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.
To live is to commit suicide in the most brutal possible way.