I used to think you were amazing. The way you presented yourself and the way you played. I thought I was so lucky to have known you for that short of time; you know, before you disappeared for the first time. I remember the night I dropped you off to the bus station, so you could make your way back to San Francisco. With all those desperate words you whispered to me still lingering in my head, I was reluctant to let you go. I liked to pretend that I even had a choice in the matter. You kissed me goodbye with empty promises of seeing me soon. Those few nights together were so bittersweet; I used to think that I would do anything to spend another night in your arms, only to find myself years later, searching for the opposite side of the bed, desperate to feel the distance between us again.