So, I had this fantasy. It was a stupid one, and I knew that when I was having it, but that didn't seem to stop it from happening. It was a combination of things, I think, beginning with the holidays and the post and the music. Somehow, the music is always to blame, because once I get a song in my head, it inevitably leads me back to you. In this ill-fated fantasy, we were talking again, the way we used to talk. There was none of this surfacey bullshit that doesn't really matter, and no censoring of thoughts or words. It was simple really, just a conversation, but it brought me back to a time when I was happy. And it made me happy again.

It didn't happen; of course it didn't. That's why fantasies are fantasies. I tell myself that I know you don't think about me the same way I think about you. I don't hold the same place in your heart that I used to, and it's not your fault that I can't fill up the place you left in mine with someone else. The thing is, I still feel like I know you. I don't know if I do, but I still feel I do. And so when I know you're hurting, I can't help but want to be there. Even if you don't want me. I don't even think it's a conscious thing: you not wanting me to be there. I just think you don't think about it, because that's where we are. It still sucks. I can remember conversations where you told me that you never really depended on anyone else, and how you dealt with everything yourself because you didn't want to be a burden to anyone. I related to that, mostly because I do the same thing. But for awhile, I believe we were there for each other. I miss that. I miss you.

But I wish I didn't.