I miss you like sleep.

I like walking to the end of my backyard. I sit there talking to myself for a considerable length of time.
Sometimes one of my "housemates" will come out, stare at me, ask me what I took, and walk back inside.
But I'm not really talking to myself (I don't expect to become completely unhinged until the age of about forty, fingers crossed).
Beneath the not so freshly mowed grass lie the kids I grew up with.
I make myself comfortable on one of the plastic chairs, holding a fag in one hand and a beer in the other, shooting the shit with the ones that knew me at my worst. And saw me at my best.
"Remember that time you walked onto the algae in Centennial Park because you thought it was solid then you fell through? And you came out green? We would have pissed ourselves laughing if we hadn't been trying to fish you out."
"What can I say, I was young and dumb."
"You were like 21!"
Then they remind me of that time I got my head stuck between the two railings on our front porch.
"Fair call. But at least I shower. If you even stepped in the bath you'd spend the rest of the afternoon shaking yourself around naked in the backyard."
We talk like that until i realise its dark and I'm cold. But I don't want to leave them out there. I don't want to think about what they look like, now. And I want them back.
I keep telling them I'm sorry. For everything.

And they never stop smiling.