I get mad when I dream about you. I feel like this whole time I've been faking the fact that I don't care that you are no longer in my life. The truth is, I care. Sometimes. Brief times. When I feel cold, literally, and alone, I search for you, I imagine how bored you must be, how you imagine me being so fun and full of contrast. But the rest of the times I don't think about you. Lately I do, but I think perhaps it is because I am working at that school where is this kid who looks just like you, and even acts like you. His name is Emilio.
I dreamt with your brother, I can't recall if it was the same dream. He told me that he was sure you missed me, I didn't care, I wanted to be his friend, I always thought that he was so much cooler than you but he never liked me enough to be my friend. And I dreamt with you, with your memories. I was a ghost in them, I could rewind and watch everything. You were at a Gala, for some reason Sergio Fajardo was there too, and you were with a girl that had stolen Lorde's moniker; she ran from the main carpet and you followed, then you got into a car and cried. I hate when you cry, I feel like it's my fault. She had her period, that was why she ran. While she was cleaning herself up she was telling you a funny story but you were thinking about how I have never seen the ocean. I woke up and you were there telling me that nobody should know that we were talking again, I didn't care, I wanted a cigarette so bad. Then I actually woke up, and got mad.
