I wonder if you’re in pain, just like I am in pain. Do you seek distraction or do you actually find joy in playing the same tune for hours on end? Why am I both satisfied and disturbed at the thought of you missing me the way that I miss you? Maybe I don’t miss you. How can I miss you when all you gave me was wine bottles filled with water? Either way, I was still intoxicated. I want to be intoxicated by what I thought was love again.