This show

This show is great. In another life I’d send you a message about it. A read receipt would give you away and bring back a small thrill; away we’d go- wherever you wanted because whatever friendship we had was built around you. Your convenience. You said we were friends but reached for intimacy that is beyond friends.

And I stupidly gave it to you. Tell me I’m wrong. What were you afraid of? Caring about someone? Admitting that you don’t care about someone? Acknowledging it means something? Being seen by someone?

I miss your attention, your read receipts. Small proof that even just for a second I held your attention and until you sent a response, I knew you were thinking about it.

About me. Yea. I miss that.

So I’m watching this show and I’m having these impulses to talk to you. I’m getting better at letting them go but they find their way here to a blank page.

What made you think I’d like this show? What does that say? What are your thoughts? Do I remind you of her? This amazing character. Too smart for her own good. Too stubborn for most men. Is that it? And she’s Italian. She’s beautiful. ‘She’d make my mind blur.’

That’s it. You made my mind blur. Another way to say you’re too much, my (old (brilliant)) friend.

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