It's funny how things happen sometimes and you can't really explain why but you're not nearly dispositionally sanguine enough to be find fault with it.
Walking back to hall this afternoon, I could barely lift my feet from the fatigue that shuddered its merry way through my aching muscles and my frizzy ponytail. And the thought of you not caring, not checking up, not ringing added extra thunder to each heavy step I took.
Then, there you were. Unassuming, cordial, casual. Normal. And we exchanged pleasantries. And for a little while, we did that thing that we used to do. That unrestrained manner of talking with the other in attendance but not really paying attention. And the knowledge that you weren't really listening to what I was saying, but the tenacity to carry on anyway.
When the time came for us to carry on our way, I played the part of the nonchalant passer-by. I was just a passer-by that you happened to bump into, nothing more. I wanted to stop and tell you how much I've missed you, to ask you why you don't ring anymore.
But I bit my tongue and I swallowed that urge. And I walked away. Like how I've been taught to, like I've been shown to.
You want to know just how much I miss you? Do you need me to say it?
Unbearably. The answer is unbearably.
It's old-fashioned as hell but my oh my, it is the truth.
No comments:
Post a Comment