Today marks eight weeks.
Eight weeks since the last time we spoke.
And if you don't count that night,
today is just a little under ten.
Sure,
we exchange "hello" and "hi" passing by,
but you and I know that's just not the same.
Its funny,
how adamant you were
saying you weren't going to leave,
yet here we are.
Now, I'm not surprised,
as I said this would happen from the beginning.
Even the summer showed flashes,
with such great quotes like
"the summer was easier because I could just forget about you".  
So don't sit here,
and claim to have ever cared to begin with,
if it truly was this easy disregarding me
when the going got tough.
Where were you,
three weeks ago,
as I lay, needle in arm
slipping away from reality?
Let me guess...I was probably just
"doing it for attention" as you accused me of before.
As if all my psychoanalyzing would allow me to do anything
for such a superficial reason.
And what did I hear after you found out?
Not a single word.
How about the weeks leading up to that?
I remember that answer too. You had just told me that I was "pathetic".
And I should just "get over it".
As if that were ever an option.
You may be quick to say something along the lines of
"you never reached out, asked for help"..and if that truly is your response,
clearly you didn't know me.
I don't know....at least now that this much time has passed,
I can safely assume why this was so easy for you.
You just didn't care.
And that's fine.
It happens.
Like I said,
if I was you, I wouldn't care either.
I'll just fade to the background,
back to the lonely shadow,
eventually you'll fully forget,
if you haven't already.
After having said all that,
I hope you're happy.
I don't mean that in a sarcastic way.
I actually mean it.
Sincerely.
Genuinely I do.
At least one of us deserves to be.