I can’t really believe a part of me still wishes things had worked out. How badly I had wanted it to work out. How badly it did not work out. How awful it all was for you, for me. On paper, you would've been it. Everything my parents had always hassled me about. The one in medicine, the one who would take care of me, the one who would get on a plane to come see me-a girl he barely knew. But then I remember how little you really knew me, and how I would never be the image of the girl you had in your mind. And I know, I did what I had to do.
It has always been weird to me, to make something out of nothing. To meet someone and decide you’d like them to be a part of your life. And then they start to gain weight in the story. Late night conversations, banter, your tongue in my mouth, my hand in yours. And then events transpire. And for some reason, sometimes, we make the decision not to have them in our life anymore. And at the end, I always wondered-How did I get here? At what point was the only acceptable solution distance and silence.
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