Attempting . . .

I was lucky.

In the past, when I was with Mike.  I was lucky.  I’m not realizing how much, though, until now.  Seeing different things with Drew.

I didn’t want Rob to love me.  That much I know.  I was in a place, mentally speaking, where I didn’t want to believe in love.  I just wanted to be left alone.  I was miserable and didn’t want to have to put on some happy, smiling face just because the person in front of me wanted me to be happy.

God . . .  I wish I could describe this better.  Drew’s me.  He’s a male, smoking, fifteen-years-in-the-future me, but he’s me.  Or rather, he’s what I would’ve become, had it not been for Mike’s efforts.