Recently my favourite thing to do has been to try and think of what exactly I would do or say if you happened to be standing right in front of me again. Truthfully, I haven't decided yet. I'm not sure if I'd scream, say all the angry words that have patiently waited on my tongue for so long. Or maybe I'd smile, swallow all those words no matter how sour they are and pretend like I don't actually hate you. Another option would be to stare at the ground as if I was waiting for it to jump up and scare me because there wouldn't be a thing I could say that wouldn't be a waste of my time. Dear god, I hope you never decide to come around. I hope you leave and never stop running. I don't think I'd ever been able to handle the explosions you set off with every step.