My Mumbling Thoughts

I hate instant messenger. Well, that would be a lie. For the most part, I adore it since I can easily talk to my sister when she gets online, and it's funny to message my flat-mates when I'm sitting upstairs and they're all downstairs.

But sometimes, occasionally, I hate it. Because I can see when certain people are online. I can see when you're online. And as much as I hate it, I'll stare at your name on my computer screen, and I'll have a conversation with you inside of my head, without you ever knowing or caring or noticing, that while you're sat there, on the other side of your computer screen, I'm having all of these thoughts.

Every now and then, when I'm being pathetic, I'll click on your name just to have the little window box pop up on my screen, with the blinking cursor bringing me closer and closer to the edge, nudging me to type something.

Go on, the cursor will say to me. You know you want to. And then just press 'enter.' It's easy. You've done it millions of times before this.

I know, but what to say! What would I say that's not stupid, or lame, or screams LOSER. How does one even begin a conversation when there are so many things unsaid and should probably remain that way. I can't just begin to talk about the weather, or uni, or ask if you're going to the bop casually. We're not those kind of people. We don't have that relationship anymore. I'm not sure we've ever had that kind of relationship. It's always been complicated hasn't it?

Although there were times, back in the day, when things weren't as complicated. Do you remember when we used to talk for hours? Hours and hours upon hours about everything. You sat on my bed that one night, when you saw the Tiffany's bracelet on my left wrist. You took it in between your fingers gently and told me that your mom loved Tiffany's. She loved all the finer things in life, as did you. You continued to talk about how much you loved your mom and how important she is to you. I remember that night so clear for some reason, and I don't know why that memory sticks out so vividly in my mind.

Now we've been reduced to this, to an empty message box with a mocking cursor, and me with all of these insane thoughts. Sometimes I'll imagine where you might be; probably in the library, procrastinating doing your coursework that's due in soon. Or maybe you're at her flat, in her room, on her laptop.

It only makes me think about the times when you would be in my flat, in my room, on my laptop.

I just wanted to say, though, that I don't think about you that much these days. Every so often you might cross my mind, and I'll remember certain things, and wonder and day dream for about ten minutes or so; but then I'll get distracted by something else and it'll pass. I'm not caught up in what you're doing, who you're with or what you think about. I don't imagine pretend scenarios that I come up with in my head anymore, nor do I care how you feel about me. I don't even care if you know how much you've affected me, even by half. I'm exhausted from our non-relationship, and find it utterly ridiculous now that we have all of this stupid nonsense between us. I suppose it's just one of those things now, isn't it? We're those people that seemed good together, but never managed to work it out.

Instead you've got her, and I have to say that I'm surprised you managed to keep it afloat this long, what, with everything that happened (you know, with me). You have her that took you back. You know her friends, her family, her areas, her life. And even though I may wonder why you ended up with her, why things seem to work with her and not me, why she's a better fit - I'm not jealous. I'm really not. I'm not sure why, but as much as I like to think that we worked, we didn't. I was never good for you, and you sure as hell were never good for me. I like to think of us like Stuart Dybek's characters - "we made not doing it a wonder, and yet we didn't, we didn't, we never did."