It boggles my mind to think there was ever a space in time where you and I were friends. Where it didn't take strength and lies to look you in the eye. Looking you in the eye was something I did repeatedly, on multiple days of the week. (I showed you everything, there was nothing I didn't hold open for you.) When it wasn't weird to see your number show up on the caller ID. I mean, I was always pleased to see it, but it was never a huge surprise. No number connected to you has been on the caller ID for years, now. And the last few times it was, the sight of it make me sick, made my stomach flop, made my heart skip a beat, made my skin buzz and tingle.
I find it hard to grasp that you still exist. That when you disappeared out of my life, and when I finally axed you from my newsfeed, that you continued on. I think that's why I cried on and off for two or three days after I saw you. I had begun to truly suspect that you weren't real, but then you were there. You touched me, you leaned in close to speak into my ear because I said I couldn't hear you. You looked me in the eye. You brought up memories, little things that had happened back then that blew my mind that you remembered. And then you disappeared again. And I left. And that was it. And I was losing you again. The pain of the loss of you reappeared as though it had never truly left, and was just waiting under the surface, all these years, waiting because it knew it had to come back again someday. Oh, wait, you're real, you're there, you can see me. Oh, wait. You're leaving again.
What was the point of that?
