bend to that mentality. Then I sent you another post card telling you that I could see it happening, and I wondered if it was worth it - would I help more people by fitting in up here or by being myself back home? Was I really going to do enough good to make it worth sacrificing my happiness? Would my idea of happiness just change? If I wanted to go back home, would I still fit? Did people even miss me anymore? I didn't think so. And then it was New Years Eve.

I dressed up. Mostly for you, just because I know how you appreciate the ladies and I always got a kick out of seeing you smile. You had a date, and you were drunk, and I decided to leave early to ring in the New Year with my Dad, who I thought might not be around for the next one. I didn't find out until after you died that when you texted me at 3am to tell me how disappointed you were that I left, you were alone. Just like all the nights I was in town and you texted at 2am asking if we could go to the river. I had formed the habit of telling you I was too tired, that I go to bed early these days. My worst fears were staring me in the face - I had changed. I had gone back to doing what I thought I should instead of what I wanted.

My dad was asleep when I got there, and we'll probably be celebrating another New Year together in a couple months. You needed me and I wanted to be there with you, but I wasn't, and now you're gone forever...or at least until I fall asleep.