I’m typing a message to you again, fingers working in automatic abandon. They’re reaching out longingly though I, myself, must be frozen in place; watching your life go on. They’re trying to get through, through to what my heart couldn’t.

Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I got through.

I’m thinking about you again, head racing and heart beating. I don’t want to anymore, but you force your way to my mind every second of every day. Pictures swim through my head, pictures of you with her and with them. Your perfect new family.

Tell me that they were in the past. Tell me I shouldn’t remember.

There’s a picture of you on your wedding day printed on my mind. A picture of you in a gorgeous tuxedo with a deep green tie, standing next to the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. Makes me want to hurt something.

Tell me that this thinking is okay, because you do it too.

I’m driving past your house again, lungs swelling with something other than oxygen. I’m holding on to my only anchor to the world; a congratulations balloon, light dancing across my face. The shaking fingers holding the string are opening and the balloon I had floats into the sky. Soon, the weight of the stratosphere forces it to fall.

Tell me to look away. Tell me to pay no mind.

Fragmented memories are running through my veins again. We’re sitting on a desk in that empty hallway no one ever walks down. We’re smiling and touching and kissing and killing. 

Tell me that you saw it too, that you saw its beauty.

You look at me through a window, smiling. You wave and run to the door, so excited to tell me the news. You’re so excited to introduce me to your fiancé. You need me to know your happiness because I’m your best friend. I’m the one always by your side encouraging you; wishing you happiness. I’m going to be the maid of honor.

Tell me it’s only for a while. Tell me it’ll get better.

So it’s winter, we’re playing in the snow. I’m freezing to death from the chill in your eyes. That’s when you decided you didn’t love me that way. You just wanted us to be friends. Even though I always loved you.

Tell me you felt it too, that you’ll remember the feeling.

I’m typing out a message to you again. Even though it’s far too late at night. I want to know how you are. I want to know everything about you and your life. That’s okay because you always have the time to talk to me, don’t you? You always want to hear how I am too. You’re answering my stranglingly calm paragraph now; words I know all too well are swimming across the screen distorted by my tears and wishing.

Tell me I can stop. Tell me you don’t care.