One. Being with you was the first thing I’ve ever been completely sure of. I spilled my guts to you and I’m still slipping in the mess.
Two. I know that one third of the CN Tower is underground, and that sharks have four rows of teeth, and that the life expectancy of a Canadian male is 78, but I will never know why you left me. Maybe you won’t either.
Three. I remember you made me laugh so hard that I couldn’t eat my lunch. You used to say that that was your favourite memory.
Four. I cried the night you told me you’d get me a star for my birthday.
Five. I also cried on my birthday when you cancelled our plans.
Six. Tú eras mi mundo. Te amé.
Seven. I treated you like you were ground zero on 9/11, like you were the cure to the unknown disease that ravaged my body.
Eight. Your eyes are dead. They don’t look at me like they used to. They don’t look at me at all.
Nine. If having you back would kill me, I’d still do it. I’m dying anyways.
Ten. You were the last thing that made me feel alive.
Ten things I wish I got the chance to tell you