Remember when we kicked around dirt under the Death Tree in that cemetery, thinking up slogans for suicide greeting cards and chasing people away with our immaturity?

Remember when we went to that diner and you planned your waffle order specifically so that I could have it when I realized it was better than mine?

The time we drove around listening to The Cure and you saved all your ecru jelly beans for me, even though those ones were your favorite too, do you remember that?

And remember, friend, when we went on that trip and you saved me from that hook-handed trucker who tried to kill me behind a rest stop vending machine? And then you pilfered a stash of brochures without me seeing, because you remembered my tourist literature collection.

Remember when I got you that medallion of your favorite band and painted you a picture of our friendship for that one birthday of yours, because I didn’t have the money to buy you big expensive electronical gifts like she did?

And then you started keeping secrets, engaging in clandestine relationships with that diseased ginger harlot from your past, taking hours to return my texts, and blowing off my knife-throwing party because you had to “drive to Oklahoma.” I’m sure you remember THAT.

How did we get so far apart?