i forget, usually, that our lives go on, in parallel.

look: you're still alive, and somehow time moves in the same sequence for both of us. your morning is still my morning three hours later.

and i'm obsessed with people i used to know, the way their spit of time is humbly trotting forward just like mine. how it seems their existence must have ended long ago, when i saw them last, and how i'll be so surprised when, in five years, they'll have been living, all this time.

i try not to forget about you, promise, kid.

[but it's getting harder.]