There’s one photo of the sunset that I swear he didn’t take. I don’t know how I know this, but I just know it isn’t how he would have captured it. This thought sets me back. It bothers me that I knew him so well. It bothers me that I can jump right back into his head and know what he’d think, when I actually have no idea who he is now. Maybe he did take that photo, I think. Maybe that’s how he sees things now. I vow to delete Instagram from my phone in the morning. I don’t delete Instagram.
this book is so satisfying to read. that makes no sense but i like the style- its really similar to how i write
