“does my pen only write bitter words for those who are dear to me?”
instead of thinking of you, i picked other fights. one of my friends says that you did the best thing for both of us. he likes you for that, so he told me, anyway - i was slightly jealous of that, because i don't think i've ever done a good thing for both of us. i picked other battles that i could win. i picked a book i could barely understand from the used books store and finished reading it. i continued studying. i cried more at the end of a movie than at the end of our friendship. how definitely i say it, anyway, 'the end'. i've been trying to add some more force to that state of being 'definite', because i still always check my inbox for you. so fine, let's pretend this is a funeral rite. let's pretend i've accepted it. goodnight, i wanted to tell you, and good morning, too. yes: it's simpler to pretend that this was a doomed venture anyway. death is inevitable. do i exist to you? i talked about you in one of my interviews, you know, as the friend who is most different to me. so fine, let's pretend that i can never solve this, because chances are that's right. i keep wondering if i should offer you new ways of communicating to me. it's called the hawthorne effect, i mean, the state of doing what you think the other person wants. you could've easily crossed the distance but you didn't. so let's assume everything was for the best, then. let me start to forget that we were friends, once, and you told me that i gave up too easily. in my interview i explained this as being the thing that separated us. i want you to read this, so i don't have to write the words, "let me give up a future where we're friends" - i wanted you to come and prove me wrong, but i was right each time. determinism, it's called, because you won't respond to this. i'm challenging you to, but you're above me and my pettiness. paradoxically, i wanted to not think about you, but i wanted to do that so you'd look back at me. i don't know how to love you in your reality, wherever it is; i'll finish the quote, too, it goes, "i'll leave you be."
