Seeing you again was like gazing into a distorted mirror. I remembered the colour of your eyes, the shape of your lips. The edge to your smile. You hadn't looked at me like that in a long time. If I wasn't careful my own smile would slip. My hard-won composure would crumble. Even though I wanted to turn away, I did the sensible thing and asked about your life. About work. About your family. I wasn't trying to be polite - I was trying not to cry. I guess a small part of me wanted you to cave in and tell me you'd missed me, but from your answers I gathered that just wasn't the case. And it hurt. When you invite somebody into your life, let them see your darkest parts while also showing them how bright the world can be and they still choose to leave - it's the worst kind of pain. Wanting to re-create a connection that faded over time is not enough. You either accept the changes both of you have gone through, or you accept drifting apart. Sometimes there's just no going back. And if it makes you sad ten years down the road it doesn't mean that you haven't moved on. It only means that what you used to have was so special, was so genuine that you are still mourning. And that's okay. So I return your smile and tell you that I'm doing fine and I mean it. But a small part of me hopes you still think of me from time to time with a lump in your throat, wishing you could turn back time.

“I keep thinking about that night. I held you close like a secret, afraid you’d slip right out from between my fingers if I loosened my grip. You looked at me like some people look at the moon, or so I was told. In hindsight, I never felt like you knew me. You never knew me at all. And I think that’s what I’ve come to regret the most - I almost gave you everything and you gave me nothing at all.”

“Yes yes yes I do like you. I am afraid to write the stronger word. Your Virginia”