One would think that I would be handling the separation from M3 much better than I am. He lived 77 miles away from me, and because our schedules were both so all over the place, we didn't see each other often. We could go months without seeing each other, and never skip a beat.
This, on the other hand, might be the most forlorn I have ever felt in a long time. I feel so torn. While I am SO proud of him for choosing to serve his country, I can't help but wish he hadn't, just so I could call him, and tell him random trivial things. That's what we did, it's how we became so close. We've literally learned each other through just being friends for so long.
The thing is, I have no problem writing him letters. I could write him a novel, and the amount of letters i've written in the 25 days since i've seen him prove that fact. I have written 7 letters. 7 letters at no less than 2 pages, all before I even KNOW his address. Every single time I finish one I think:
"What if he hasn't thought about you once since he left?"
So I don't put them in the envelope to send. I just stack it with it's peers, out of sight.
I just hope while he's heading to the halls of Montezuma and the shores of Tripoli, that he thinks about me. Just Once.
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