I was thinking about what to write Her tonight on the way home.

I wanted to write about why this matters — about having been in love, about having touched that place and having learned from that why Us was so good.

But no… no… that’d bore her the fuck to death.

Then I wanted to write about she was ridiculous for giving up on me, clearly I’m good in her life, clearly she likes me. Stop being a brat and start being with me.

But no… no… she’d probably burn the paper those words were written on before she even finished the next sentence.

I just wanted to… get through to her.

Instead I was distracted by the long day and a rude girl who, in response to some joking remark of mine, said, “Oh, you think that we’re friends.”

She came off as sarcastic but, to my dismay, quite sincere. I didn’t call her out on in it in the moment — a regret — but in hindsight, I recognized how rude it was (at least she was being honest?).

Those people who hate you for doing nothing to them. The worst. Judgmental pricks. Worse, I have to work closely with her for the next few weeks.

It distracted and infuriated me….

And made me very much miss Her. She’s so smart, a quality I recognized about her early on, that I could often use her help.

The breadth of her observations and the depth of her thoughts made her a wonderful human being to be around — even better to talk with.

She could bring a unique insight onto a problem. And even better, she could touch me perfectly.

She should be with me and I should be doing better.

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