sappiness. loads of it.
12:19 a.m.

Dear S-,

Wish I could pick up the phone to call you, I really wish I could. It wouldn't be the same as before but it'll do. Somehow I just need to know that you haven't changed that much and I'm interested to know what went on in your life the last two and a half years or so. I'm sorry I never asked before, never seemed to care. Have the two years changed you much? Do you still get affected by the same things you used to? But you'll want to know about me instead, and I'll attempt to steer the conversation away from me, because I don't want to talk about the pain, but knowing you, you'll pry it all out of me anyway. And at the end of it all, after the emotional purge, I'd be grateful to you for giving me the chance to speak unhindered, taking comfort in the fact that you will not judge.

But of course, I won't do that. I won't call, numbly acknowledging the fact that you've got your own life to lead now, don't need excess baggage. And it was my fault anyway that things have deteoriated to such a sad state. I won't call because it'd be unappropriate for me to do so and I don't want to put you in a compromising position. For now, just knowing that there was something special even for a short while is more than sufficient. I hope that she treats you as well as you deserve to be treated.

But I'd always love you.

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