it was short.
it was weird.
it was nearly as pathetic as posting an anonymous letter on an anonymous site that neither of us would ever admit to having read, let alone participated in.
you made excuses for why you didn’t let it go further, why you disappeared one day after chair races and trivial pursuit.
said you were ‘afraid’.
yeah well, fear doesn’t get you anywhere. so you came over, we had awkward sex, and never spoke again. but i’ve always had this thing about you… this strange, enigmatic aura enshrouds you in my head… makes most of your uncharming qualities somehow alluring, your slimy antics somewhat brilliant and progressive…
play the piano more. read everything. write more. i may still have that bit you wrote about the end of the world some years back… you sent it to me for thoughts. use your talents and grow the fuck up.
then remember what you missed with me and try again. you’ll still have that charm, and i’ll still fall for it.