Counterproductive

I'm at a loss of what to say. I can't explain this anymore. Hate, love, sadness, happiness... it's all the same now. I'm not much closer to accepting this all. I'm no where near breathing easy. I still break down, I still want to cry. My breath still hitches in my throat, and sometimes I don't believe I'll be able to keep on breathing. As if everything will just clog up my throat. As if I've eaten three slices of watermelon, and now I'm in anaphylactic shock.

But no. To answer your unsaid question, or perhaps your question whispered in the night too distanced for me to hear, I'm no closer to asking for you back. I'm no closer to knocking on your door, or leaving a forgiveness note in your mailbox.

I did what I had to do. And you did what you had to do. I'm not sorry for anything, anything but that I let it continue on for so long. I could do better, and you could do worse.

But still, I dwell, though you have surely moved on. Because I'm a dweller, and unlike you, I cared.

No. That was harsh. You cared, but not in the way I want. You cared by shrugging your shoulders and muttering "Oh well," just as you continue to do. I cared by shouting "Oh well? This is 'Oh well!'" And you never seemed to appreciate it.


And I still agree with myself.

I love you, I miss you, I never want to see you again.

But in this small town of ours, well... It's a small world. And I know, eventually, we'll meet again.

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