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People keep asking me “Why Seattle?” Well because, the town I go to college in, we picked that out. I see you everywhere. The apartment I live in, I see you, I see you helping me move in, I see you sleeping there with me the first night because I moved in earlier than my roommates, and worst of all, I see you on my living room floor, crying as you tell me you can’t love me anymore. The scene changes, I see myself on the floor, curled up where you left me, add in a couple bottles and I see where I stayed for two weeks after that. What about going somewhere back home? Well that’s worse, that’s where I have nights like last night, where I know you should be here but you aren’t. I see you, 10 years old and at my house because I kept telling my mom you were my best friend when she told me to invite people over. I see you, 11, 12, 13, just hanging out, adding in a couple girls when I made other friends, but you’re always there. I see you, 15 and jealous because now we added in a boyfriend. I see you, 16 and happy that’s you now. I see you at every holiday, I see you hugging my mom, drinking with my step dad, doing puzzles with my grandma, fishing with my grandpa. I see you holding me while I cry on our favorite couch. I see you, 17, getting mad with me when my mom decides to move even though we are headed to college. I see you every New Years Eve, always my midnight kiss. I see you in the fields we snuck off in, the trucks we road around in. Every place I’ve lived, you lived too. “What about around your dad’s house?” No. I see you, 15 years old and freaking out to meet my dad for the first time. I see you, 16 years old in my kitchen with our friends, our first house party. I see you arm wrestling my dad and losing miserably. I see you asking me to prom here, I see you staying here every night my dad is traveling, I see you 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, drunk, sober, tired, awake. I see you here, in every corner of this house. “Well there’s the new houses” Oh, you mean my mom’s new house where you spent an entire summer on my couch? The one where I’d wake up and see you? The house we played with my brother’s puppy in when we puppysat her? Where we spent your birthday? Or my dad’s new house, built after we broke up? The one that we used last summer when we knew we had to see each other, your girlfriend be damned? The one we held each other in? The one where you cheated on her, multiple times, and I didn’t care because I had you? The one where you cried when I told you at Christmas that I was moving far away, where you begged me to stay even though you couldn’t do anything else? Where we spent Christmas night this year, not even messing around, you just held me and cried and told me not to go, even though I’m not yours anymore. No. I see you every place I’ve been. And if I have to move half a country away to not see you, I will. But when people ask me, I just say that it’s a beautiful city and I’ve always wanted to live out west.

This is one of those nights that you would’ve been here, I’m alone in the bed that was your favorite to share. We would’ve spent the night together, I would’ve fallen asleep on your chest. I would’ve woken up early to make you breakfast, you would’ve laughed because I can’t make eggs. We would’ve gone over to the new house together tomorrow. You’re in town, I know that, but you’re not here, and that still kills.

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