All signs point to depression, and side effects of depression may include talking to those skeletons in your closet at 4am when you dream about her. Again.
Talking to ghosts isn't scary or bad, mostly it's just sad, because she's still alive and you act like she's dead. She's not dead. she's just not in your life anymore.
It's been two and a half years since we last talked, and I'm sure I can reach out or find a friend of a friend who maybe knows where you are.
But I won't.
Because the same reasons that drove you away, drive me to stay where I have been for the last three years.
I have grown up, but I have not moved on, I'm just loftier and believe that I can die happy because maybe I changed a half-dozen lives for the better. But I can't prove that.
I'm not suicidal, but I still keep that shotgun barrel at the back of my mouth just to keep myself hostage to the past. To the memories.
So I stay away.
Because I'm stuck.
My mind likes to divide instead of multiply, then compartmentalize all the things I want to say. But Rationalization clears it's throat and speaks in a somber way.
"You died that day you threw your love away. Your words do not matter, anymore."
I check the time; it's 4am. Here we go again.
//On her//
