I still miss him the most on nights like tonight. He would be listening to me talk (his favorite pass time) and watching me hungrily. He would ask me questions and let me rant about a day I barely remember. We would be sitting on the couch in his man room, the bar. He would be chewing his nails and geninuinely interested in what I had to say. That was something I doubted at the start until months later he would referrence something I had said casually in our first interactions. His glass bong was always next to him like a baby bottle, his fingers running through my hair, before I cut it to erase his touch. I talked about me, which is rare because I wasn't used to people listening. I've spent my whole life as an ear. My glass of wine would never be empty nor would his pipe piece. When I was done spilling my emotions on our carpeted floor in my nonchalantness, he would turn on the XBox and we played and talked shit as if we were just friends. Shit talking always lead to play fighting and everyone knows where that leads. Or was that just us? For six years he was my clutch. He was my drug, my best friend. Now it's just me left with emotions spilled on floor for no one to see. I'm not coping or concealing my inability to cope well, at all. I need something I can't give myself and that I don't want from anyone else other than him, but I no longer want him.