from my journal

10/3
Though we are strangers, he has already seen more of me than you will. He is wearing your shoes and your height.

I am not in love with you anymore but you are in my system. So much a part of me that everything I do still has pieces of you in it. I will not stop missing you.

Part of me hopes that I will run into you; the next time I take the train, sitting here now or somewhere totally unexpected. I know that we have no claims over each other but you did not feel wrong and that is so important.

We will sit three feet away from each other for hours, neither making a bold enough move. I will imagine our life together and he will listen closer to his music. We'll leave together, but not for the same place. My arms are open for him. He is three feet away and will not move any closer.

Couples curled on the few patches of grass, sharing homes with roosting pigeons.

There is no shame in a city like this.

You were a force not to be reckoned with, somehow unyielding in your frailty.

I try to smile honestly because I know that it is beautiful and I know there is a difference but it is so hard when you have left me, so full of sadness.

I am still learning how to forget about you, but everything here is yours. You would have loved it, maybe even loved me, loved who it has made me become.

I don't know why I expected that I could count on you, so fast, so young. You were so much like him in every other way, why should this be any different?

It's not that I'm selfish or even hard-hearted. I'm just never sure when I believe you, or if I ever should any way.

10/4
It is winter and the flowers are struggling to grow. I have forgotten how to tell you I love you I love you I love you I love you.

You are making fun of yourself, making me laugh at your own expense. You keep checking on me, looking back and smiling. I want to feel myself in your arms.

10/5
The streets are wet and empty. Things are starting to smell of mildew and that doesn't make me want you any less.

Time is passing quickly but the months last forever and I lose track of the dates.

10/8
I am not in love with you, but I miss what we had. I miss you because you were such a big part of my life and I still care about you. I hope you are better than the last time I saw you. I hope you are on your way somewhere good. And yes, I hope you miss me or at least think about me from time to time.
Your birthday is coming up. You will be an adult then, but you probably will not have grown up yet. That seems to be how things work.

10/9
I am going to be honest: more often than not, coffee makes me sick. No, I'm not lying; I do like it, but it makes me feel nauseated. But I drink it--for the taste, for the caffeine, for you. I should just stop coming, because the longer we talk, the more fascinated I become. Your age makes you more appealing, lending you something I won't find elsewhere. Not to mention you're damn good looking. Too bad neither of us thought to lie. This could have been absolutely fantastic.

(Not so) secret: I would go home with you if you asked me.

Proof I haven't stopped writing

just because I'm worried myself, sometimes: