I think of you every day, but I rarely speak about you. I avoid it if I can. It hurts too much. Sometimes, it’s awkward. Embarassing. I miss you and you miss me, but neither one of us will do anything about it. I could call you, but I won’t. Too much anxiety. I never know what to expect from you, but it usually ends in disappointment. I wish I had happier things to write about you, like I used to. I hope things change before it’s too late. I miss you too much.