I must admit, an uncanny feeling crept up on me — that perhaps I am merely chasing my past….. Going blond again, rediscovering old musical interests, even wearing old socks..! Attempting to reconnect with someone I knew what feels like years ago…

Three and a half years ago. Really, no big deal.
But I feel like maybe, just maybe.. you and I missed something big here. Telling our story in full to Stephanie today, I remembered such wonderful (and shitty) little things about the weird complicated relationship that at least I didn’t deserve. I do admit, you did a great, satisfying job before and on prom night. But literally, the next day you returned to who you were for a year just earlier—

I already said too much, when all I wanted to say was.. I wrote to you in hopes to reconnect with someone I knew three and a half years ago. That wonderful, sweetest, kindred someone of whom Stephanie never knew before tonight. That precious someone with whom I felt the most connected I had ever.. Back then I wrote in my diary “IT’S LIKE FUCKING DEJA VU WITH JX1, now I know not to let go of you…” It was that friendship that was so delicate and beautiful, that I was afraid to ruin it by telling you I liked you. Remember? You played “La Dispute” on the phone for me. Do you remember our conversation about death and never ceasing because I inhabit this body?

I must also admit that such wonderful, memorable moments also reappeared before prom. Remember we took adderall and I couldn’t stop talking to your mom in the kitchen? How we lay under your desk, lights off, listening to my music.. How I caressed your arm and elbow so inconspicuously, yet our friend still seemed to notice in the end? Those were the moments that I felt I had you back again.

..But whom am I fooling here. I already lived through that period of pining for you when you deserted me without any closure, mistreated me, wrote me out. Went for someone else a week after prom, without any sort of conversation in between. You were not you already. You know why, we both know why.

..But talking about all this like it’s news is futile. Once again I went on babbling about how great and shitty you were. I apologize to the reader. I also apologize to you for never giving you my all; perhaps that would have changed everything, like it did negatively once and for all when I shat on your feelings one day and took it back the next. You know, I’m always like that with people. I don’t know why, but I always experience a mix of fear and boredom and withdraw, only to return soon after — and only with stronger feelings—

I really ought to stop now. I just hadn’t thought about everything in almost a year. I’ve mentioned you when pertinent, but that’s about it. The reason I can’t stop writing this particular entry is because…
…This is the feeling that gets me, its dabs always so poignant, that feeling that things are not as they once were. When I feel that something is hopelessly lost without any, even a micro-micro-microscopic tiny little one-over-infinity chance of revival that could give me that which keeps up most things: hope. I know now how to name those moments, and they were moments of utter, pitch black abyssal hopelessness, and of the very few things that I can count on one hand that have ever fallen into that dark, bottomless, soul-tearing, mute and deaf pit, the old you was one.

Crying is useless too, but I cannot help it. I think I may have loved you the first time I met you.