We are thousands of miles apart and I usually wake up to texts of you venting about the girls you’re now living with. I wish I could whisk you away to the Russian countryside where we would drink vodka amidst the snow. We would be covered in scarves, bracelets, and eyeliner, all while wearing Cons and Docs underneath to keep the rebel in us alive.But alas, the dream is slowly fading, along with our nights on the fire escape in the city of bridges. Man, that was a lifetime ago. We were so stupid and hopeful. I smoked all of the weed, while you cooked spaghetti for me every night. We let our dishes rot and our money run out, but we did all the drugs, we watched the beautiful fireworks, and we realized that the Bone Thugs After Party was the best place in the world. It’s a new chapter in our book. I’m slowly becoming a boring adult while you’re dealing with all the troubles of being a responsible one. You see all the greats on a weekly basis, while I sit and stare at multiple screens wishing we were sharing a beer in the salon, at the river, anywhere together.I hope next year, wherever I may end up, that you are with me. We will once again try to keep the dream alive, except this time its going to be in separate rooms, with larger bank accounts, and wiser minds. Maybe the golden gate will become our new 405, ya dig?