nameless; Bon Iver

The more time that passes, it's as if he never existed; it's as if he and I never went through what we did. We were friends for three years, and what an intimate three years they were. This morning I don't miss him like  I did yesterday.

If he was here I would tell him that I found this remix CD for Bon Iver's last record. I would imagine that he and I would enjoy hearing it together. It's right up his ally. He had a beautiful taste in music; however, his intake of new music was very slow, so he was also one of those people still rocking the hits from two summers ago.

I can remember a time from the summer of 2011 that he and I were riding around Kingwood in his little Toyota pick-up truck after softball practice (or were we just running laps together). We had been talking about Bon Iver; the record had just come out. We listened to the whole thing as we weaved through the wooded streets of the North Houston Suburb. It's times and memories like those that I'm most thankful for. It's times like these that I began to long for long before he killed himself, and after we started having sex.