Three months have passed. Hello. How have you been? Good. And you?

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, sweating because I dreamed of you and I together. A moment later, I register through sleepy haze that we don’t talk anymore. I fall back asleep. 

It’s Friday night in October, but that doesn’t really matter, because they all end up feeling the same. A boy whom I’ve never met slurs to me that he likes the sound of my name, and smiles at me through glazed eyes. I suddenly have the urge to call you. To hear your voice; to have you say my name; to hear the sound of your voice saying my name. 

I took a plane ride and listened to songs that once reminded me of you. I didn’t feel anything. I don’t know what that means, but I’m calling it progress. 

The fluorescent light of the department store makes me sleepier. It’s been a long day. It’s been all late nights and early mornings, all crowded subways and afternoon runs, all busy days and busy weeks. I catch a glimpse of chapstick for sale on the shelf, the same one I ended up forgetting in your car. For a moment, I picture the two of us driving down the interstate, windows down, feeling something like magic. I can’t tell if it was a memory or a dream. 

I think I poured meaning into our moments. I notice this now after having watched others do the same thing to me. 

Two years pass. I've been doing fine. Thank you for asking. 

There are journals filled with feelings I still wrestle with, letters filled with things I still don’t have the courage to say. I continue to write, knowing that none of them will ever see the light of day. I don’t think either of us deserve it.

“All Eyes On You” plays overhead in a coffee shop one afternoon, in the city I now live, the place I now call home, that has colored my life with many glorious moments, all of which do not involve you. Excuse me, I say. I need to use the restroom. I close the door, grasp the sink, and let the salt sting my eyes. 

Maybe it’s no use to say, but I am still struggling to grasp the idea that there are things in this world you have always thought you needed, and the hardest days are the ones spent convincing yourself otherwise.

I have always thought that cutting ties was about the act of letting go. Yet, I have now learned that it is all about 

- slowly, ever so slowly - 

tying up the ends that you have still kept loose. 


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