I'm saving you a seat for the rest of my life.

They are ever in favour. These odds seem to go up with time. Friends passing almost drunkenly with the grace of an over handed tin foiled potato on a bizarrely chilly August night. So here I am again, ready to pine away, shotgunning beers and chain smoking and waxing poetic. So I can say for certain whenever you are around on my mind or in my thoughts it is like I'm young again. But the crying uncontrollable in line at the supermarket, and the missing you, and the wishing I had spent all those conversations on the phone in person. That is a real thing.
The world is a dirtier, shittier, colder fucker without you in it, I guess the only thing I can actually do to honour your memory is to make it rad.