I'm waiting to get my words back so I can drop them in your locker.

How do you do it?

Last night as I stood at a concert with the beauty known as Taking Back Sunday flooding into my ears, into my heart, into my veins, they played it. The song that I drove away at 4:47 AM not-quite-intoxicated to listen to on the side of the road with seat reclined, tracing the word lonely into the ceiling.

Then I feel a hand rub me on the left shoulder. And it's you. You've come up from some rows down to hug me and be with me for this song. You always know. You are the hero who comes back in the last frame to save me from myself. You read my mind, my heart, my everything. And without a single tear of mine hitting your shoulder, you know when I need you before Ido.

And I know we don't spend as much time together as we used to, but I'd hate to think that it makes you believe you mean any less to me. There have only been two people in my life who I have loved and will always love through thick and thin. And hero, you're one of them. Sometimes I wish you could be inside of my head (more than you already are) so you could watch with a pencil in hand as you tally up the number of times I think about you a day. An hour. A minute. Most of the things that truly show how much you mean to me, to my life, you have no idea about. But maybe someday you will.

You are someone I will never forget-
it's that simple.

--Lauren

[what was ... what will be]