Zig Zags

Three weeks ago, I would have pointed at you and said, "That kid over there? He's my best friend." 

Now you're not even around for me to point at.

Three weeks ago, you would have read this blog post within three days of me putting it up.

Not I'm not sure you'll ever see it.

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I'm sorry to everyone reading this, because I know the last thing you want me to write about is him.

But I don't think he's him anymore, and that should at least make you feel a little better.

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I texted you last night and I told you I missed talking to you.

Perhaps it's meaningless, but you didn't say it back.

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I'm finding this summer to be a rather lonely one. 

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Don't forget me.

When you come back.

I might be different than I am now, but don't forget all those things I've said to you.

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I think I understand, now.

That trip we went on, to New York.

I think I understand what it all meant.

If you ever do see this, ask me about it.

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This isn't even a poem.