Obsolete.

I just can't help but wonder if she will play with your hair like I did, make you collages, write you poetry, think about you when they watch the sunset, yell at you for smoking, listen to your heartbeat with a devotion so strong as to count every beat towards the minute like I did.

But I made all of that obsolete when I left, didn't I?

Everything happens for a reason.
If I didn't know that I'd go insane.