And how bright your hair was when you were recall­ing the ter­ri­ble date you had last night. The guy would­n’t stop putting him­self down. “Someone’s inse­cure”, I said. You agreed. I only knew because I used to do the same thing (but I did­n’t tell you that).

You would­n’t stop bit­ing your low­er lip — how I want­ed to stop that fid­get with a kiss — and flip­ping that gold­en wave back over your head with clum­sy lit­tle fin­gers.

As wrong as we were for each oth­er, I still want­ed to give it a try. To see what it would be like to sing with you in your car, even if you thought lis­ten­ing to rock gave you an edge cause you were such a girly-girl. To find out if you could ever love me as much as you love your­self.

I nev­er asked you out cause I was too proud to make the first move. In this phase where I was tired of being the one to make the effort. Probably for the best. You’d nev­er believe that I avoid you as much as you me. Did you ever tell him why you don’t come around any­more?

I still think of you. Then again, I think about pret­ty much every­one who’s been in my life from time to time, in some capac­i­ty.

You’re the only one I hate think­ing of.

Maybe you faked it, cause you had a con­ve­nient mis­car­riage when you got thrown out. Now you’re real­ly preg­nant, and the new guy is let­ting you stay.

It could have been me, they said. That was my first thought too. But I’m not weak and you’re not here.

Until last week, I still had your num­ber in my phone, but to be hon­est, it was just so I could know not to pick up. Sorry I nev­er called. I thought about it once or twice, when I want­ed a per­son to play with cause so many songs sound bet­ter with a har­mo­ny. But I’m too good at com­ing up with rea­sons to be alone. If I saw you again, I’d ask how you remem­bered the chords of your friend’s song cause I can’t even remem­ber the words to some of my favourite tracks. And if you ever record­ed your­self singing a song for your old grand­pa to see.

I still have that out-of-focus pho­to of us on the couch, look­ing into the cam­era, you on top. I’m prob­a­bly nev­er going to do any­thing with it.