I'm doing that thing again.
That thing where I should talk to someone about this,
but I just don't,
and then things start getting weird and confusing.

I'm doing that thing again.
That thing where I turn on really loud music,
and let it blare into my ears,
and start to mull over the strangest thoughts.

We're doing that thing again.
That thing where we don't talk to each other,
and then I end up wanting to die,
and you'll probably end up stoned.

I always hated the thought of you stoned.

a/n: Okay. I can't help it, I have to think about him and all the stuff we went through together. It's not like he was a random guy that I picked up somewhere… he was like one of my closest friends. I can't help but remember him, and how much I hated it when we wouldn't talk, or when he got stoned or drunk. This is stupid. I think I need to kill brain cells.