I’m so jealous that I can’t think straight and I don’t even know if it’s jealousy really but I know I ache for places that you’ve been or seen like bridges and oceans and people who get to hold you or feel you when I never will. My hands shake with wanting and your face wells up in my memory invading my day so much so that I can’t concentrate on all these things that need to be done. Maybe I’m addicted. No. It’s clear that I am because I can’t stop checking and asking and writing all these things that cannot be stopped as much as I know they should. I am unable to quell my curiosity or to say no to one more glance, one more look at what will never be mine. I wish there were meetings for people addicted to other people because I could finally talk about this problem, this unhealthy obsession with going back. This is my only place to speak and no one ever talks back.