Slightly drunk, thinking about her all the time. Revisiting the times, between the screens, that we spent together.
All the things she trusted me with and all of the excitement I had just to come home to her. The reverence I had for her creativity, her loveliness, her moodiness, her genius - Replaced by a reverence I have for God. She\'s moved on, she doesn\'t care. I\'m not her lover anymore - Barely there, a memory, seemingly, of when I was just a kid. There for her when she was low.
The kind of acquaintance meant to be thrown away. She was everything to me, and I worshipped her. I still worship her, though I don\'t know how to anymore. And maybe that\'s a step towards forgetting.
Realizing I don\'t know why maybe is the way I find how not to. A decade has passed waiting for us to reconnect, but maybe then we weren\'t connected. A fine line between a reality where she was and the illusion, the attitude, of a relationship alluded to by the internet; a wondrous thing.
I\'ve been dreaming for years. The kind of dreams that you despise waking up from. And I\'m sobering from this feigned familiarity.
Letting go of all the letters I wrote - Aching, craving, like how i may not thirst but desire a drink of water so discrete, so sweet, and just because of how it feels. I know her like how i know absolutely nothing but have an inkling of it; soft static in my ears is how her name sounds in my head. How I never used to call her by her name but knew of it.
All the memories of her I know better than the memories of my own life, and sometimes it doesn\'t feel like a choice. And that comforts me.
If she would just talk to me - Say \"Hello\", or everything in the world...I could die.