I’ve been wanting to talk to you

It’s been a while.  We’ve not spoken in ages, obviously, but, well, I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I need to talk to someone, the loneliness aches in my chest, it really does. Such big change recently, sad that I can’t… I don’t know.

And then the other day I noticed it was exactly 20 years to that date. A partly erased date now, of course. Wiped over. “As close as possible to the day I really wanted”. But I suppose it’s still etched into my brain, doesn’t help that it’s a PIN number to one of my old cards either.  I should probably change that. 

Yes, I’ve been meaning to write. Every morning in the shower I stand there and come up with things to say to you. What I think are, at the time,  brilliant counter arguments to current political evil, perfectly constructed replies to years old but never forgotten text messages and lists of things to do before I kill myself. And then I step out, wake from the shower-trance and I dry myself off. The thoughts, arguments, ideas disappear. Suprised each time to see weird  graphs/diagrams and unreadable words fingered in the shower-screen condensation. A temporary hard copy (if a little watery) appendix that’s evaporating and fading almost as fast as the pointless thoughts themselves. 

I’m still here, though.


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