Damn it, Dalton. Stop making me think about you.
Ok, so you don’t make me, because you’re what feels like millions of miles away with no way to contact me, but it feels like you are.
I don’t even know where you are, or how you’re doing, or anything, and it kills me. It fucking does. I miss you so much it makes me cry.
I just wish my phone hadn’t broken, so you could have called me.
Now I don’t know when, or if, we’ll ever talk again.