Sometimes I wonder if you're bored like me.

Sitting at home on a ran­dom night, caught between the com­fort of your room and the stim­u­la­tion of peo­ple. You once told me I could always call when I said I did­n’t want to be a hyp­ocrite, but I don’t know if that’s true any­more. It’s been a while. I won­der if you ever think about me, and if you do, whether it’s with fond­ness, dis­taste, or indif­fer­ence.

By now you’ve prob­a­bly fig­ured out that I can nev­er be the one to pick up the phone first, which is why it’s hard for me to believe we’ll ever see each oth­er again. I wish there was a way we could just talk, and not have things get com­pli­cat­ed, and not have to wor­ry about you or me or any­thing between us.

Sometimes I think I’m strong enough, but I think of that call and that voice and the burn­ing across my skin, and even­tu­al­ly I real­ize I’m only fool­ing myself. Just mak­ing excus­es to see you again cause I miss you so much. I’m not yet used to the fact that I can’t share these songs, these expe­ri­ences, this hap­pi­ness with you, and it’s left me feel­ing incom­plete.

Even now it feels like there was so much left unsaid. Like my words were always inad­e­quate to the bur­den of my heart cause I was nev­er able to con­vince you of how spe­cial you were and how much I loved you. But time is teach­ing me that you knew, and that noth­ing would ever have been enough.

Not long ago, I real­ized it’s not just you I can’t stop think­ing about, it’s all of my past, from insignif­i­cant instances to major events. If only you weren’t one of the only things worth remem­ber­ing, and I was­n’t try­ing so des­per­ate­ly to for­get.


  1. Your writ­ing strikes a chord with me, but unfor­tu­nate­ly for all the wrong rea­sons. You have noth­ing but pure inten­tions, I wish I was half the man you are.

    We work togeth­er and we were both mar­ried. It was a brief affair, and we returned to col­leagues, rarely speak­ing. I want­ed to share my thoughts with her, but I could­n’t, and it made me feel hol­low too. All I know is that this gut wrench­ing, guilt rid­den expe­ri­ence will stay with me for­ev­er.

    I too des­per­ate­ly want to for­get her, but mine is a penance, a con­stant reminder of my own fail­ings that I have to live with for­ev­er.

    • Why did you want to share your thoughts with her? Was it for the sake of clo­sure? What would you say if you could?

      • For that brief peri­od we con­fid­ed every­thing with each oth­er. I’m a fair­ly pri­vate per­son, and she was the first per­son I could con­fide in and not feel judged, I could be me. It was a lib­er­at­ing expe­ri­ence.

        I don’t think it would be for clo­sure, but know­ing how she feels now would prob­a­bly help. Being part of her life, then becom­ing just an out­side observ­er is hard, but I have no-one to blame but myself.

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