I miss you so much, I can't walk up 5th Avenue without seeing you at 2 running to the corner of a building and stopping, waiting for me, to grab my hand and cross the street. I can't stand walking by the little garden in front of your best friend's house, and all the things that happened in that little apartment, and how his mother stopped letting you be his friend.
It breaks my heart. All of it, everything you were robbed of in life, but most especially life. You were so full of life, the last person anyone would have pictured sick. I have a picture of you and that same best friend at 3, him with his braces and crutches, and you dressed like Robin Hood, oh my god. How am I supposed to keep living?