No calls, no text messages..nothing. I should savor this, but part of me isn't. Part of me wonders what you're doing right now...the other part recites the months of lies over and over again like some sort of fanatical religious chant. It's a constant inner battle that wages throughout the day, only interrupted when I must concentrate solely on work, or on the entanglements of others. I see and hear their problems and realize that I could have it worse...but then again I lost an idea.
I lost a figment of my imagination. Did you ever exist? The man I met almost a year ago....the man who swept me off my feet. I think it's a lie that you claim he still exists. I think if you had the chance, you'd murder him with your own seething hatred and anger.
I think I made you up inside my head.
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