One week

I will never get to see my friend again.

I will never here him yell at me, louder than 11, even though I am wearing headphones.

I will never again see him smile after his sends, or drink redbull.

Never again can I talk about climbing with my friend, or girls, or climbing girls.

Never can I ask him to belay me.

I will never smell his god awful hippie smell, ever again.

Nor will I ever be able to laugh at his dirty socks, long-johns or mister muffler Mountain Hardware pants, that he loved so much.

Never will we crash in the same tent in Chonta, cause the pussy that I am, I am afraid of sleeping alone.

We will never sit, cutting up vegetables together, not talking, just listening to the deep empty of life pushing at our backs.

I will never understand again, because Mike is not there to make sense of it for me.

I will never climb the same again, because mike will be there watching me, every time.

I will miss his stickclip, cause I refuse to own one.

I will miss his hair, getting caught in the grigri, time and time again.

I will miss him hitting on girls, when you know its all for show.

I will never believe again, because the truth was always laid out by him.

It will be hard to breath again, because Mike was the life blood of my life.

It will be harder to keep secrets, cause now I really have no one to tell them too.

I will have trouble hearing lies, cause Mike will be there to guide me towards the truth.

I will miss my friend.

I will miss him very much.

I will.

I will...