I tried to talk to you during Mass, but the priest kept interrupting my train of thoughts. When I finally had a chance... I probably sounded ridiculous because I was floating. I was floating (sage's fault), and I was trying not to cry. The only chance I had to have a more formal conversation, and instead I go on a tangent on how much I miss you and how much I hope Mike is okay.
I've waited twenty days to tell you this: I'm afraid I'm reverting back to where I was on the day you died.
One night, I was thinking about you, thinking about your memory, when I began to think about your death. Usually, the thoug