I miss Pete

All I'm doing is going through the motions of a day in the life of me. And the only coherent thought I've manage is that I miss Pete. Everything feels like missing things. All the words I hear are heavy with missing things. I paid too much money for bread that reminds me of french toast and tastes mostly of missing things.

I am tired, and heavy, and lonely in myself today. I had a bad night, I'm having a bad day, and all I can think about to make it better is Pete. I miss my mischieviosity mentor. And it feels like an acid is running through my veins.