Send me “I miss you” to know what my muse will say after 1 year, 5 years, then to 10 years after your muse’s death.one year: You’re an idiot. You should’ve…should’ve let me handle them! I…God, I could have done something. I could have saved you. Don’t say that there was nothing I could have done, because I could have moved faster, knocked you down: had it been me who took the shot instead of you. You deserve to be here, living life to your fullest. You deserved to be happy on this world. Not me, Steve. I know it. I don’t belong here, not without you.five years: The nightmares finally stopped. But not really. Sometimes, I feel like I’m living in one. I know, cheesy. You’re probably upset too, that I’m being so…upset about this and not really moving on. Well, tell me, buddy. What would you have done if I bit the dust? I don’t even want to think about it because I would’ve told you not to mope when I was haunting your room. You probably are telling me the same thing, but hell if I’ll listen to you. There’s a big hole in my heart, Steve, that tore out when you…died…and they say to listen to your heart, don’t they? ten years: I miss you. Maybe we’ll see each other again, if God bears witness to me suffering through all this and thinks hell for eternity is enough. Ha. Anyways. I think I have all my memories back now, Steve. I never got to tell you this before you…you died, but I’ll say it now, so you better be listening. I mean, maybe you inferred from my actions since actions do speak louder than words sometimes, but…I love you, Stevie. I might’ve been the one helping you when we were kids, but you were the one who made me…better. Happier. And then you saved my ass more times than I’d like to count. I still owe you for being the one man to heal my mind, more than some shrink ever could. Since your…death, it’s been unraveling a bit. My mind, that is. But…I’ll keep going. Keep fighting and living for you.
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