Time Doesn't Fly When You're Standing Still

It's been about five years now since I've seen you. Five years since we've talked face to face. We used to talk so much that I would be able to stave off your raunchy jokes even before you'd say them. We were that pair that could finish each others' sentences, only we never did.

It's been five years now though. Five years. And yet I can remember every conversation. I can remember every promise, every thing we used to do together. My CDs, some of them, remind me of you because we listened to them together. Some of them I even bought to impress you. It must be five years on if I can admit that now.

You announced today that you are engaged, and I saw it in a post online. A saccharine story that I knew I would see just by seeing the subject of the post. I didn't want to keep reading on, but I had to somehow. I had to offer my congratulations. It's what a good friend does. I wonder if you will think about my sincerity when you see my comment back. I did the best I could though under the circumstances, and after all, you probably wouldn't give it a second's thought anyway. I commented with my happiness for you and cried for the rest of that day, almost non-stop.

Head Fake

You knocked on my door. I said come in and was surprised to see you. I was even more surprised when you closed the door.

You sat on my couch, folding your hands and leaning forward. Your face was serious. Even concerned. I thought perhaps you were going to ask me for my forgiveness. I thought of all of the ways I would give it, could give it. It would mean so much.

You said you had a question to ask me, and I didn't have to answer right away. I played it off light and said go ahead, and I said thank you for your permission. I played it light-hearted as my heart heavy-thumped.

You asked me if I was friends with this girl. You knew I was. We were good friends, in fact. I said yes, and why?

You asked me if there was a way to help you get a date with her. You liked her a lot, you said. I wondered if this was some kind of test. I wondered, if I said yes, if you would say, "Congratulations. You have proven your love." I wondered, if I said no, if you would disappear.

I said sure and still pretended to be light-hearted, though my heart was in my shoes.

Today I saw a post from you online announcing your engagement to that same girl. I wonder if I'll be invited to join the bridal party, or if I'll be able to stay silent when the call goes out for objections.

A Dinner Conversation

I am going to be leaving soon. You do not seem too keenly aware of this fact. You in fact have been treating me worse than you did before. Anyway, it seems so, though I can't recall a time when you were ever really nice.

I made it easy for you today to be nice, even jokingly, even mockingly. I said, "You will be sorry when I am gone. You'll see." And you said, "I'll just replace you with someone else. No biggie."

I proceeded with eating my food, chewing each bite very slowly. The chicken tasted particularly bland and dry, I remember.

Tree of Birds

I saw a tree today, and at the tip of nearly every branch, there was a bird sitting and singing where leaves would normally be. The illusion created something quite normal looking, but the reality this time was a bit more unexpected.

So it is with you, I guess. From far away, we may seem like a couple, for all of the time we spend together, all of the time we keep each other company. Upon closer inspection, people would see that there is only implied good feeling where good feeling would normally reside. People would see, if they looked closely, that there was movement where things should be still, and singing when all should be quiet. People would realize, upon pondering what was before them, that everything they were seeing was backwards, a dyslexic's gander upon the world. Like the birds that I saw on the tree today, the image of love would fade away, and the thoughful would be left with a tree that bore neither birds nor leaves but just empty branches still coping with remnants of winter's chill.

A word is worth a thousand thoughts

I won't admit to how much time it takes me to decide what to do when I see you have posted something. Should I respond or ignore? If I respond, how shall I? It's my only basis of communication with you so it carries more weight. Do I respond with kindness in the hopes you will remember how much I helped you in the past? Do I respond with a biting remark to signal my displeasure? Do I pose a question in response, enticing you to answer back, or do I post something beyond clever? It's hard to be clever when the post is about the weather though. It takes me a long time to decide what to do when you post something, I'll say that. I would try to just comment back as myself, as I would with any other person, but I already tried to be myself when we knew each other in real life, and you see where it has gotten me. I respond with a monosyllabic word and with no small amount of self-loathing. "Hah!" I say. And it's in response to me more than it is to you.

A fish on baited breath

I know I shouldn't like you still. If I were thinking rationally about the whole thing, I would have stopped talking to you ages ago, not to mention stopped thinking about you. I would look back and see that the crumbs you threw me never did come together to make a hearty piece of bread. My mind, if I was rational these days, would be reverberating with your words of mockery.

Instead, I remember that you said "I love you" after one particularly gruesome grilling. You said it as I started to walk away from you. Like a fish that can't resist the bait, I find myself smiling at you again, smiling at the memory, at that little triumph.

If I was rational, I would know that the hook does not come far behind the fattened worm, but I am not rational these days. I keep letting you reel me in over and over, and just when it seems like I've gasped the last bit of goodness I can get from our little situation, you say something like "I love you," and I dive back into the water to be fooled again.

Instant Message Me Some Cutlery

If we had been talking in person, I don't think you would have said what you said. But you were in front of your computer and I was in front of mine, so you were more courageous. You knew, or perhaps didn't even think about it, but you would not be able to see my eyes or my face when those words flew. "The way you act kills all chance of affection," is what you said. You said I was too caring, too close. I thought to myself, but did not type, that I only respond to those around me. Is it being motherly to let you eat my cheese when you come in and go straight to my refrigerator?

I let the cursor on my screen blink for awhile. I see no indication that you are typing. There is no immediate, "I didn't mean to say it that way." If we had been talking face to face, I don't think you would have said it at all. You would have just gone to my refrigerator and gotten some cheese and crackers, sat down at my computer, and started playing my computer games like you always do. And I would have been content, thinking that this must be what it is like to be a couple.