I'm not quite sure what to make of you walking awkwardly into my party and seating yourself across the table from me after all this time. I don't know what to say to you, but I couldn't stop myself from talking to you, just going on and on and on. I suppose I missed your sense of humor and just the sound of your voice. But, my God, what right do you have to just show up one day and pretend that everything's okay? Your explanation for all the shit you put me through: I was weird last year. Not even I'm sorry, though that was implied. I just really don't need the mind fuck right now.

Now I'm dreaming that he might come back, that this could work, that he misses me that much. And I don't want to think that, because its a lot more likely that he really was just looking for the car, and just decided to stay. I want him to think about me tonight when he's falling asleep in Rhode Island. I don't want to be the only one.

vintage//modern