I seriously think there is something wrong with me. I need to stop thinking about her as much as I do. Today is the anniversary of the last time I spoke to her. It’s been four years of avoiding all the places we used to go to, four years of finding ticket stubs in random places of my apartment. I still whisper I love you whenever I drive by her street.
I know it sounds stupid but it’s the fastest route to and from work. There have been a few times I drive by when she’s pulling out. Once, she turned in the direction I was driving. She was behind me for two lights and I freaked out thinking she was following me. I ws so sure of it after two miles, I kne she recognized me, even though I bought a new car, even though my windows where. But she was following me. She wasn’t. I subconsciously remembered Fridays where Movie night with her friends and ended up circling the parking lot till she went inside.
I found out she was getting married today. I say was because she and her fiancé announced it a few months ago. He was given a job overseas and they have postponed the wedding, and it’s taken everything in my power not to drive to her home.
I remember the last time I saw her, she called me to hang out. We hadn’t talked in weeks, needless to say I was excited. I dressed to the nines, I changed my socks for fucks sake. When I picked her she looked beautiful. I mean she was in a we’re going dancing dress. It was a great night, we split the bill for dinner, I bought her a yogurt from her favorite little shop, and she kicked my ass at pool in the bar next door. Somewhere between a new game and another round she told me she was dating Tom.
She touched my arm and asked if I was ok. She said she wanted me to find out through her. She said she understood how hard this was to hear since I’ve been in love with her for the past three years. For some reason she thought it would be a good idea to reminisce about the first time I met her. Maybe because I never mentioned how goddamn hard I fell for her that night. It felt like someone was talking at my funeral, someone who only half remembers the story.
“yeah I remember when me and this guy sat on the floor of that book store for hours, the way he looked at me you’d swear he’d never read sues.”
Everyone would chuckle at the fond memory, but no one would know that I wasn’t paying any sort of attention to her reading. I was too busy watching her eyebrows dance as she read and silently laughing at the fact that all her characters sounded like the same old woman trying not to fall asleep.
I don’t think I’ll ever stop, she meant too much to me.