To the Uncaring Person,

I still miss you.
I still miss playing chess with you, and it really sucks.
I don't have anyone else to play chess with. So while I've chased your memory out of all the other parts of my life, whether it be with other people or other hobbies, I still can't lose your memory from that.
Whenever I want to play chess, I want to turn to you, go back on a skype call, and generally mess around while attempting a serious game of chess.
Which never happened.
It seems so fitting that one of the things I miss the absolute most about you, is one of the things I can't seem to replace.
And that really sucks too.
And this journal entry sucks.