O, Hark! For Before I Knew Your Name!

I am supposed to be in bed. I am supposed to be sleeping. I intend to get up for a run in the morning. But where am I.
I'm at the table in my room, in front of my laptop. I am on the profile of several old friends and I am crying. Some of you are gone, others for good and I am sad because you all have lives.
I'm sort of stalking you I guess. It's upsetting me when I see photos of your other lives. You're out partying, taking piano classes, playing with babies and (I thought this an odd shot for a public album) buying underwear. You're doing it with new people.
That came out wrong but I've not got the effort to rephrase it. I'll just it leave it as is.
I don't even know why I'm bothering. We don't talk any more and if we do, I feel as though I'm the burden of who you used to be, dragging you down.
And that's ok. You never had to or have to like me. I just wish we were still friends and that everything was not the same but very similar.
I wish I could write you an email about how my day went. Maybe comment on your status. I won't though. I'd be intruding and then I'd have to re-introduce myself to you. I'll just watch here from the sidelines. Don't worry, I won't break into your house and cut off some of your hair to keep or something creepy like that.
I'll just keep an eye on you, see if you're doing ok and whether or not you're happy. We're kinda past the point where we can just pick up and be friends I think. I'd ask you if you agree but you'd never answer.
That's ok too. It's like you know the rules too. Well, there aren't really any rules. Not officially. They're more like guidelines that everyone agrees to without knowing that they exist.
So, it's like you know them. I won't act like there is any hope of us being friends like we used to be and you won't get my hopes up. We're working together to not be. It was inevitable, I suppose.
For Clinky, Ryan, Mikaelah, Ryante, Susan, Bridgette, Sam (and Sam) and all my other lost loves. But mostly the ones from Year 8. You understood why we worked.
I wish you'd never left. Or maybe that I'd never let you go.