Honey why you callin me ... so late

She told me. Sometimes, she thinks about how it could have been.

I don't know what I'm thinking at the moment. Closure? The skeletons, as we speak, are clawing slowly through the layers and layers of control, and tumbling right the fuck out the proverbial closet.

We talked tonight. Like we haven't talked for a long, long time. Years. I miss her. She says she misses me. Sometimes, she thinks about how it could have been.

For years, the way I told it to myself was, it wasn't meant to be. It would never have worked. It takes two... Sometimes, she thinks about how it could have been.

I am fucked.

It scares me how she still sees right through me, through all the layers of protection I impose between myself, and being "that guy". It's been so long, it's been so long. Self-imposed control, control, control... denial?

Oh come on. Haven't you had enough of that yet? Wasn't it enough back then that you almost fucking screwed up everything?

... I am immensely afraid that the answer to this may be no.

Thus, at this point, we will not be addressing the matter. Haha.

But tonight, we talked... we talked the way we used to, an age and a half ago... the way we fit, we matched, we understood, the way that made me fall in love with her in the first place.

Fuck, I said it, didn't I.

Goddamn L word.

For fuck sake, son, get a grip.

... but the proverbial can of worms has sprung open. That shit is everywhere now, man. Haha.

I wonder now, if she will write about it in her diary, record it with pen and paper, and once again close the book on that chapter of our lives, like we did so long ago. I wonder if the words will smear, if a tear could be shed for the times we had, and the ones we didn't. A single one would be enough, I could never bear to see her cry anyway. It's ironic that I probably made her cry enough, back then.

I feel the urge to show up at her place, right now... take her into my arms, and in the silence, perhaps something I always wished would be said, could finally be said.

Or would it not make a goddamn difference?

God, you're a fuckwit.

Before, she asked me... Are you in love, or are you content?

Are you in love... or are you content.

I know that I love her... but deep down inside, I am afraid that I will discover that I also know, that I still love... her.

Would it change anything? Babe, do you know? Did we ever know, anyway?

Earlier, I told her about the girls that I thought about the most, about the what-ifs, and the maybe-s... I lied. I don't think about her. It is too dangerous. Things like tonight happen. I refuse to allow myself to fuck up my happiness, or hers. She never deserved it, really. Young and stupid, I guess I fucked it up for myself if anything.

I haven't had to use this space for weeks.

Well, now I'm back.

Hu-fuckin-rrah.