This is becoming pathetic, isn’t it?

I move away, go a thousand miles away, start a new life and actually succeed, but put me where I started and I feel like nothing’s changed. But everything’s changed, haven’t they?

I still miss you. I still tell you every detail of my life. I have friends, and I choose to tell you.

The strange part is that I feel closer to you this way, I find comfort in the thought that even if you’re gone, I can still talk to you, that I can still have my moments with you.

I went to see you today. It’s different from last year, although I have a feeling a lot more people went to see you last year. I think your family’s been checking in on your resting place, it looks pretty well kept. And I’ve just gone to the crazy side, to think you care about that. Or maybe you do. I wonder if it’s your mom or your dad that checks in on you. Maybe it’s even your brother. Unfortunately, it’s these moments that make me realize how little I really know you.

I’m sure Alice would know.

I’m in the same area code as Alice. Isn’t that insane?

On that note (Alice, not the insane), I’m going to your other memorial site tomorrow. I’d rather see you on a full night’s rest and on a decent stomach, instead of this jet-lagged, I-haven’t-eaten-anything-proper-in-days version of me. I think I’ll need all the health I can get if I want to find your waterfall. I hope I find it, you didn’t exactly take the time to mark the landmarks when you told me about it. Alice told me briefly about it, but we both know there wasn’t really a lot of talking involved then. And my sense of direction could be suspect.

I know this sounds crazy. Trust me, I do. Which is why I tell you, and not my friends.

In the spirit of honesty you should know that I’m on edge at the thought of being in the same state as Alice. As I said, the same area code. I’m not proud of the way I left, I know she thought we were making headway with our talk in Canada, but that was before everything went to hell and we got back to LA and I chickened out and stayed out of touch. It’s easier this way. Just like when you and I broke up those times: it’s easier. Safer, even, for me to just stay away. It’s too much for me to know that the other person doesn’t miss me the way I miss them.

So you should know, Dane, those months when we broke up? I missed you. Just like I miss you now.

And honestly? I know, even now, even with two years’ worth of introspection, that I never meant anything to Alice. She probably didn’t even blink when I left. I wonder if she even realized I wasn’t around anymore.

I’m sorry. The last thing you probably want to hear about would be my feelings for Alice. The feelings I still have for Alice. But I figure, you’d understand. If there’s anyone who’d understand what it’s like to be madly in to like Alice, it would be you.

I’m tired. But I want to get this down on paper before I take this forced death march down memory lane. No pun intended.

What would it be like, Dana, if you’d lived? Would things be different? Would we have stayed together, or would you have chosen Alice? Would you have possibly pulled away from both of us? Would I still have left?

I know it’s a futile exercise to even think about it, but I still wish you’d lived. Even if you wouldn’t have chosen me, knowing you would have still been with people who loved you would have been enough.

Just like knowing Alice is probably with someone who loves her. Deeply. I mean, who could resist?

As I told you once, if she’s happy, then I would have been right to leave.

These are things I tell myself to reassure myself that I made the right choices.

Even when I know that I’m wrong.

It’s late. The trip to LA and the emotional toll of seeing your grave is too much.

Good night, Dana. And wish me luck on tomorrow.

tbc?