you're at the hospital having your ankle looked at, and telling me how you miss us. And I have only one question, one I don't dare ask for a number of reasons. I don't dare ask, because if the answer is one I'd want to hear, I can't answer it in kind. I can't ask because it's unfair to ask. But at the same time, a part of my thoughts dart to the other R in your life, and gets jealous and begs me to ask. Do you miss us enough to come back? Do you miss me enough to want me back (not that you ever really lost me)?
I find myself writing letters to the ghosts of my life telling them about you, placing you on that pedestal you dread, and for a moment hating the others in your life.
“Dear Kako Cai, I wish you could meet him. I wish you'd seen him in my future and warned me against Order.. His voice soothes me, Kako, when my nerves are so shredded that I'm ready to give up. He's not perfect, by any means, he's certainly a ‘project’ to consume my attention; but Kako! I just wish you were here to meet him.”
Comments
Post a Comment