Dear T,
I am so weary of cutting out people completely from my life. I will take this foolish path again and again if it means a part of me can still hold on to them inside.
I said I could do it, but I can’t. I will let my grip slip slowly instead, as we ponder to stay friends or not to stay friends, to talk every day or is it every week or should we make it every month, whether to ignore you, how much to tell you, how long until I can see you without wanting to fuck you, how long until I can see you again at all, how long can I go not seeing you again?
I remember how in the beginning when I felt we should not write anymore, how I could not close even that virtual door properly, even with so little really at stake. It seems like from another lifetime, another friendship, when I sat to write that to you. I wrote that we could be “in case of emergency, break glass” friends for each other. When and only when everyone else fails us, could we seek out each other, as briefly as we wanted, to say whatever random thing that needed to be said.
How romantic, how brave, how silly, how delusional, and how I want that for us still.
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