I made it 36 weeks.
36 weeks since I last messaged you.
I know this because you’re a millennial who only uses snapchat to text
It’s like a bomb timer in a Steven Seagal movie, that counts up
or 36 weeks.
In that time, I’ve lived in two major US cities
I’ve dated doctors, lawyers, waitresses, Actresses, Economics professors, HR reps
I’ve had one night flings with girls from Brittan, South Africa, and the good ol’ USA
I’ve joined acting classes, bowling leagues, Soccer
I’ve went from having no friends, to more than I see on a regular basis
Despite all that, I got up and for the first time in 36 weeks
I thought of you.
I thought about our last drunken adventure where you kicked some girl out of your apartment
and the creamy vanilla perfume you always wear
and the one time you told me not to kiss you before our date because you just put on makeup, yet I did it anyways
to which you brought up months later as evidence that I was your “soulmate” even though I don’t believe in that.
I thought about all of those times
and how I’m sure you’re doing well wherever you are
with whoever you’re with
and I guess,
I just wanted to say “hi”.
I have the same pair of boots as you in that pic. #twins