Driving through roads I haven't gone before, rain drops scattering on my windshield,
A sudden ache flooded my veins, my bones.
I unexpectedly felt a rush of homesickness.
I desired to see the mountains where I spent my favorite times with you.
That was when I began splitting,
That was when you began dying,
But we were together.
Those drizzly days, walking around, exploring places you'd never heard of, and places I'd dreamt of since the day I'd last left.
I haven't missed that place in a long time,
Ever since the desire to be there was overshadowed with the desire to escape nightmares associated with those mountains, and those unrelenting stars, but not with you.

You taught me a few things there.
You taught me how to be silent with you and with the stars.
You taught me how to actually enjoy that silence.
You taught me how even the most familiar of places are the most unknown.
You taught me how to have fun with matches without hurting myself (at least intentionally.)

Those mountains stuck with me, week after week, after month, after we left.
The snow and the cold, even in July, forcing us back to the car, but not until after we explored and shared Dad's camera.
The chipmunks loving you more than they loved me, eating out of your palm and crawling all over you, while I took more pictures, stuck with me too.
I don't know how we survived that trip as I fell stupid in love and you climbed into your sacred, secret tower, with Mel, that I couldn't quite reach.

But it's days like Saturday that remind me of all we gained on that trip.
We can just sit, in silence, with each other, my head on top of yours, and feel completely at peace with each other.
Even if not at peace with the rest of the world.

Your hair was longer.
That's the one thing about you that is sticking in my mind.
That, and the fact that I've seen those jeans a million times.
But I still can't breathe when I think about it.

I dropped my eyes so quickly I went blind for a moment.
No words were said between us, the talking from the others filled the room far better.
I couldn't even look at you past the initial one when you waltzed right into my profusely damaged psyche.
Your voice in my ears was an angry grater to my nerves.
Your reaction to me there mirrored mine:
Nonchalant indifference.
We no longer exist to each other.

I finally got what I've wanted for seven months.
I finally know you still exist, that you're still alive.
I have some solace in that, but mostly just stunned disbelief.
I was in the Twilight zone, my life for the past seven months flashing before my eyes and going right down the drain.
The effect you had on me was a **** poor excuse for the one you used to have on me.
But my heart still ricocheted against my core and my torso was enveloped in horrendously painful flames.

I couldn't utter a single word to you, my thoughts ping-ponging around my head.
Or maybe the reason is because I have nothing left to say to you.
My words have dried up just like your affection long ago.
I have no words for you.
No words would justify your actions, nor mine.
No words would even come close to actually portraying what I've felt because of you.
The pain, the guilt, the betrayal, the pure, agonizing rage, the exhaustion, the inability to eat.
Truth be told, I'd rather experience all that than bow down at your feet anyway.

I'm getting this nagging feeling.
I don't know whether it's because in the pit of my stomach, I know you don't approve.
Or if it's the fact that you're not responding, and I'm worrying my fears will be confirmed if I call you.
Or if it's this niggling little thought that wormed its way into my brain, the same one I desperately hate.

You would think I'd learned that this time of year, when I (possibly) gain someone/happiness,
I'm destined (doomed) to lose someone/happiness.
It's happened a little late this year,
Or maybe it just happened a little early last year.
I just want you to talk to me.
I just want to know you're okay.
Normally when you're not, you tell me.
But once again, something's changing, and I can't help but feel happy despite my growing shame.

My memories have made my mistakes.
It was not me.
I swear.
It wasn't me that hurt you, but some warped self, torn down by grief and rage.
It was not on purpose, old love.
You know that I never meant apologies,
But you know that I didn't mean the harm either.
My memories have made my mistakes.
I beg of you to believe me.
You knew I cared, somewhere, often hidden away from your imploring gaze.
I never dared to care out loud and frankly, I'm sorry.
But you won't believe me.
You never, ever did.
You took the risk with me, a few times,
While I was too wary of your caring gestures, uncertain of your motives.
My memories captured my mind.
They captured me.

"We're slowly letting go, like it's better left alone."

Your sleek, falling apart car.
I'm constantly on the lookout for it, anxiously awaiting the day when we bump into one another after all this time.
We don't live in that big of a city, and yet it hasn't happened.
I'm in constant fear of that occurrence, but I'm sickly anticipatory.

Today I followed a car that I could swear was yours for three miles.
It didn't have your signature license plate border, but I thrusted into auto-pilot and followed.
I followed past where I should have, hoping for a glimpse of your face, or even hand, so I would know you still exist.
So I would know you still exist outside of my mental concentration camp that I can't decide if you set up.
Or did I?

I craved seeing you.
I craved the whole feeling that seeing you might bring.
But I know it would only bring what I ached with after following whom might or might not have been you: dissatisfaction.
Dissatisfaction with you, with me, with the fleeting flings I've attempted to make myself feel whole with again.
Dissatisfaction with the strongly held belief, deep in my heart of hearts, that you were someone special.
You were someone special who I couldn't stop from slipping out of my grasp like sand.

The entire time, following that small black car, my heart was pounding on the inside of my ribcage.
I was on the verge of a cataclysmic breakdown of epic proportions.
I so wanted that driver to be you that I could almost smell your aroma of body spray and  hookah smoke.
I so wanted that driver to be you that I made her every movement similar to one you would make while driving to the amusement park or to get ice cream or as you would drive away at 1 a.m.

I wasn't going to give up, not yet.
That was my mindset that day,
(after I'd gotten over the initial shock and your surprisingly irate responses.)
I was going to win you back.
It was only a phase.
You were just upset with me.
You were going to drop her like a hot potato once I'd shown you that my side was the best one.
You were going to come running back, just like in July, calling just to hear my voice.
It was the same game, just with a little twist thrown in.
Instead, that twist became a game changer.
One that I underestimated.
I thought she'd be a pawn, a pointless piece easily taken over and tossed to the side of the board, wholly incapable of toppling the King.
I don't think I've ever been more wrong.


I've tried to find my own replacement thimble in Monopoly
Or maybe substitute "spouse" in Life.
I've been bending the rules in poor attempts to win,
While shattering monotonous matches and marring ideal games.
It's no rude awakening that I've never made it past the first round.


I lost.
Pure and simple.
I'm a sore loser, always looking for a way to cheat my way back in.
I just call it a loss now.
You did another type of cheating and hey, guess what.
You can call it a win;
You didn't have to lose your money, your hotels, your deeds , or your bragging rights.
I'd call it luck, but I know you always play to win.

"I love you."
It'd been a while since I'd heard that from you
And I'd stopped craving to hear those three words from you,
Growing used to you being detached and turning to ice.
And yet I still kept you around.
To fend off the decreasing care you had toward me,
I kept her around.
To fend off your ever fading concern,
I made her believe in all of my lies.

"Give me a kiss."
I couldn't help but smile at that
Relief flooding through my veins at the thought that maybe you still wanted me around
Even though you obviously did by even having me there.
But even though you obviously didn't by the following weekend's events.
But I still wanted you even if you weren't going to want me anymore.
It's how I'd felt for the preceding month.
(And it's how I'd feel for the proceeding six.)
     I don't know why I was so surprised.
Rather, the shock that everything I thought had finally come true.
You were not mine anymore
And now I'm doubting if you ever really were.