| I'm at work typing this on my phone because the only work I have at the moment is a stack of medical records to summarize that I really don't want to get into at the moment. So I guess you're distracting me again. I wish I could forget.
I want to forget the way you looked at me and the way it felt when you held me and all the promises you made that fell through.
But -- and this is the strangest part-- I'm not angry with you anymore. I'm not even what anyone could really call heartbroken (I think my hopeless romantic may have finally died. That or she's indefinitely comatose). For a while I was hurt that you weren't getting back to my attempts at being friendly, and part of me still wants to call you out on it, but another part of me just says, "Why bother? Why waste your time trying to contact someone who clearly doesn't want to talk to you? You don't need that."
But that doesn't change the fact that you were one of my best friends, and it sucks that you're gone. It kind of feels like a dream, but I can't tell if it was a good dream and now I'm awake or if this bad part was the dream, and I'm still hoping to wake up back in London.
I think it helped that I saw it coming. I saw it back in November when I told you I didn't trust you and I told everyone else that we would see where things stood when we returned. I saw it that evening in the car in your silence. I saw it when you were too busy to tell me we'd talk soon.
What has me puzzled are the other things I saw. Things I saw that came to pass and things I saw that have not happened yet. Perhaps you scoff at this, and it's true that what I see doesn't always come to fruition, but it does often enough for me to give pause. Perhaps that also is why I am taking this so relatively well: because I know some things that you do not. I know something strange and unproveable, but it is something nonetheless. |
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