The Thread That Fell Apart
I miss our cynical jokes. I miss our odd connection that was a comfort, a point of reason in a world where things seem to get crazier as time goes on and we get older. I miss your relentless teasing, our ridiculous level of familiarity. Your laugh still rings in my head from time to time, and the musty smell of your old truck is present in my room sometimes. I miss how I was the first person you came to. Is it really that I missed being someones anchor? Is it really that I miss your unspoken desire, the want that I knew was there before you ever said it; your want for me. I don’t know, but whatever it was, its gone now. That chapter is over, and I’ve started a new one. No one can replace or write over the story that you left me, but I’m in a different place now, and I’m happy here. I remember when you showed me the passage in your journal about me; I was thrilled. However, I don’t think that you would feel the same if you read mine. The thread that connected us was undeniable, but it began to fray, the way thread does when its stretched to far, or when the strings that make it up wear out. Our thread fell apart, and theres no way to string it back together.