I woke up today.
Ah, there it is. That slow spin of black to white like a rotating Yinyang as you turn your head and glide those patronising coal-black eyes over mine.
"Moron." You'd say.
One simple word and it would set my heart racing, my face burning with embarrassment, foolishness, anger and something else I never used to understand. One simple word and you would explain everything, destroy anything I said and come to one simple conclusion.
Well done for stating the obvious. Must you always come out with such ignorant comments? Total moron.
Was it always that one word?
Weren't there times when your slim lips would lift cruelly in a contemptuous smirk? But then you didn't often smile. Did you ever? Am I just making that up? I can't remember anymore. Maybe there are lots of things I've made up since.
No. You definitely did that once. God, how could I forget? Yes. You smiled once.
But where am I? I'm going off on a tangent that I haven't, well, gone off on for a while. How long? Oh yeah. That long. That's why. That's why you're here but not again.
I'm back here, aren't I? Yep.
Fuck, that poster is old.
I had to actually clean last night. An inch of dust. I'm not exaggerating, I swear. There're a lot of things here that I'd forgotten about. It seems like everything that isn't here is all that I remember right now.
There's that roll of the eyes again.
Oh yes. You. You weren't here for the past two and a half years. No, not right here. You were never right here. Except… apart from that one time. But you're right here. Yes, here. In the place you thought was just an empty space, as empty as this room seems right now. But you haven't been here since I was in this place last time.
Has it really been this long? Really?
But anyway, the point is that I woke up here this morning. And just as I thought it suddenly you were here. I guess the "it" is you then. So why haven't I thought "it" for so long? Have I been that busy? I have been busy.
I suppose you're still linked to here. This here and that here. I suppose they're one in the same when I'm here.
I suppose you think you've left this place for good? Well, you haven't. You're still here while I'm here and when I find you again, you and I will be right here together.
When you and I are here this room will stop feeling so empty.
I got everything when you left, you know? Everything I ever wanted. But, and this is the funny part, damn it, you're such a bastard, get this, right: I don't want any of it. Unless you're back here then there's nothing I will allow myself to have. For some stupid reason it's like you have to validate everything I'm getting.
Maybe you should be getting it instead.
Yeah, I bet that's what my fucked up little mind is thinking.
But somehow I think it's true. I think the only reason I'm getting these things is because you should've had them. It's like the present for a lover that leaves you: you pass it on to the next best thing besides them, someone you're supposed to love but don't really give a fuck about: a mother, a brother, a sister, a close friend. But then I really wouldn't know much about that. You do though, don't you?
Fuck, did I just refer to you as a lover? Ignore that little slip.
What am I talking about? You're not here. I'm not really talking to you. You're never going to hear this. I can say whatever the fucking hell I want because you're never going to hear it. That's right. Right here I can say anything and you'll never know.
You're not here.
You're a traitor. You hurt me. You hurt everyone. We're all giving up our lives for a fucking traitor that doesn't feel a fucking thing. If I got down on my knees in front of you and slit my throat you'd probably just look disgusted and walk away. Fucking walk away. Just walk away like you always do, you coward. Or maybe now you'd just stand there and watch. Not a muscle in your face moving. Not feeling a damn thing. No, I don't know anymore. I don't know you anymore.
Don't you realise what you've done to us?
You're not here.
You probably think we're crying into our pillows at night because we failed. That's where you're fucking wrong about us. You've always been wrong about us. No, we're fighting for you. For you. We're standing up against worse than you. We're standing up against your fucking nightmare. That's how much you mean to us, you stupid little boy!
Now don't give me that face. You can't give me that face because that face doesn't exist on you. It's all just another figment of my imagination. You're not a little boy anymore, but, of course, that's all I see.
You're not here.
You're not here.
I miss you.
You're not here.
I can't give up on you.
You're not here.
For some reason…
You're not here.
Somehow…
You're not here.
…
You're not here and yet I still can't say it.
You're not here.
But you will be.