I've been sitting in this motel room for the past half hour. The humidity clouds around me like thoughts of you cloud my brain. The pink LED lights make this place seem nice. It makes me believe it's nice. I forget how I flew down here for you. I forget how you used me. I forget all the words you called me. I forget that I'm not supposed to love you anymore. You wouldn't believe how long I spent clicking my pen before I could even start this message for you. That was something I always admired about you: your certainty. That's how I know that this is the end. The same way I forget my woes, you forget your own. You've pushed me far from your thoughts. So, this is my postcard to you, from the edge of your mind.