of not speaking/texting/messaging me, you randomly decide to send me a text with an added picture? A picture of a book, that while you were thousands of miles away, years ago, when we were together…we spent hours pouring through together? You held one copy in your hands there, and I, a copy in my hands. We used to go through the pages, find one each of us liked, and had the other search for it after being told the page number and line number.
It was such a sweet time. We were so giddy and blissful as we read through our little book of happiness on the phone together. I even marked a small sentence in he binding of my copy I had from the library (I know, bad, bad me…I have only ever done this once) to keep as a keepsake down the road…I wonder if I could find the same book again when I visit back there). I loved that book and what it meant to us.
Now, after banishing me to the awkward writings that we now share, you send this to me today? Why did you do that? That just seems mean and cruel. Maybe you have no idea how important it is to me or something. You were going to pick up your sister from college, and on the way back, you were listening to Allison Krauss on he radio with your dad and sister, and you must have been reading this along your trails. Cool, good for you. But, why must you share that with me on a text? And, then, when I don’t respond to said text-you post it on Facebook, with my name tagged? Ugh, not nice.
I sometimes do think you are just sending something my way every so often just so I will be around when (and if) you need me to be there for you. You sent a “Happy Mother’s Day” text to me soon after, that I said “thanks” to. I also responded to your picture with something along the lines of “great read”. I just don’t understand why you start talking to me, only to immediately stop…until next time. Your girlfriend will be back in town in nine days; are you feeling and antsy and lonely while you’re waiting? You usually start talking to me again when things aren’t going well for you in some way. Like I can somehow change things. Or, make them a smidge less stressful for you as you run away with our intellectual benders of late-night talks and stories.
I give up. Just when I am starting to get my mind off of you, and our past…there you are. Figures, because I was talking about you earlier today before I even knew of your texts. I should hush my mouth and quiet my thoughts. I am going to try again to rid myself of you and the crazy influence you have over me. We’ll see.
I should just ask him why he does these things, but knowing him, he will have no answer, and be confused by my confusion. He never thinks before he does things. Writing this out is somewhat therapeutic for my emotional state.