Matt, I don't know what to do about the fact that your sisters, the tiny girls who used to follow us around on the beach, now have children. I wish you were around for me to lament about the passing of our youths. Instead, I have the knowledge that you're not there. Except...a lot of the time you still are. I go home, and I see you around the turns on 144. I hear you singing along to Oasis in the car. We hang out in my dreams, and I don't miss you then, because we get to spend some time together. But in my waking hours, and in these weird dark hours where I should probably just go to bed, I miss...I miss you. I miss our past. I miss your future. I want to know what happens.
I fucking hate the shit life deals us sometimes.
Love,
Rebecca
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