It strikes me every time I drive home from work how quiet the night is here. Sure, there are trains going through sometimes, but mostly it’s just me and the few stragglers on the road. The moon has been full the past few nights I’ve looked into the sky, and it’s made me think of you. There was one time in particular, when the moon was hidden by some black clouds, and the sky was already dark, so it looked like the clouds were tucking the moon in for a nap. It reminded me of you so strongly that I had to clear my throat a few times to get rid of the sudden urge to cry.
I was thinking about a letter I wrote to you a few years ago. And as I was thinking about it, I wanted again to be quiet with you. There’s something beautiful in silence between friends. I created a little scene in that letter, just for you, of how it’d be. I’d be sitting down fiddling with one of your unlit cigarettes, and you’d be listening to me chatter away about something. You’d have a smile on your face because you found it amusing that I knew how to hold a cigarette even though I’ve never smoked in my life.
Henry, I wish I could have told you in person how much I love you. Sometimes it keeps me up at night that you never knew. I haven’t been able to read the letters I wrote you because it’s hard to see it from the back end. Maybe you knew. Maybe you were too polite to say so. But I miss you with my whole self, and I wish I could wrap up beside you and just exist with you.
I never knew it was possible to miss someone like this. I don’t recommend it. It’s seriously fucking awful.
I love you.