Things have been going so well in the last year that I almost didn’t need this outlet for the catharsis anymore. Things are still going well, aside from a new, lesser form geographical disparity and odd longings for a place I couldn’t wait to leave.
I don’t know what on Earth compelled that Google search, but something inside of me just needed to do it. 99% of me has moved on, but I can’t help that tiny part of me that still misses you. I know that it’s stupid to miss someone that you barely know, but to my credit, it’s a feeling I keep almost entirely squished down.
I don’t know why this is such a kick in the gut. It’s not like things could have possibly worked out differently. It’s not like I wouldn’t have moved on even if I hadn’t moved physically. And even if I hadn’t, it’s not like I could be that girl – the one that sends a “harmless” text or email announcing that I’ve been Google stalking you and would love to get a cup of coffee if you’re free sometime.
I guess it’s just that, in those days and weeks and months when I was a completely shattered human being, I spent so much time playing the If Only Game. Somehow that makes it an especially cruel twist of fate: it’s exactly what I wanted, a year and half too late for it to matter. You’re back and I’m gone. You’re back in the exact manner you told me you had decided against and I’m gone. And there’s that one percent of me that’s distracted by playing If Only, wondering if there actually is a way where will once existed.