There’s not been one fucking day I haven’t thought of you.
At first you were just the man in the elevator. The man I was going to find again one day by knocking on every door on the 11th floor, one day when I was ‘better’ of course.
I think it’s just hard on days like today, because I just found out that scientists *found* a mutation that Noah and I share, a mutation that they think might be the root of this entire fucking nightmare of a misery,
and for whatever reason,
you’re the first person I wish I could call and tell about it.
And my rational mind tells me you’re probably some arrogant asshole who doesn’t really give a shit,
but my imagination prefers to believe that you still do.