Days gone by, and I wish I hadn’t said that to you.

Weeks pass, and I wish I had explained better.

A month’s time wasted, and there isn’t anything I can do anymore.

I keep thinking about the good times, which I used to fill the silence of an empty room

and yet I wonder where those have gone, as if I wasn’t the one who killed them.

The reason for your absence was the words I said.

I don’t know if they were words that bored you,

if they were words that you didn’t agree with, or just needless words.

I thought that it was me, and as time passed, I knew that it was me.

If I were to say something different, would you still be here?

Available to talk to and to engage in intelligent discussion, due to the uncanny similarities of our lives.

The both of us, put through advanced studies at a young age,

hardly knowing the meaning of “fun” until someone from outside introduced it to us.

A little different in the way we handle and react to things, but who could blame us? We’re only human.

I wonder, do you think the same way? Probably not.

Mentally, you were better off compared to me.

You were the kind of person who could say they weren’t bothered, and be fine the next day.

I wasn’t. I obsess over social detail, but I pretend it doesn’t bother me. 

And then, at home, I spiral.

Out of control, until it’s all that fills my mind and keeps me awake until 4 AM,

when my eyes are beginning to close on my own and the sun already begins to rise.

I look put together, but I’m not.

I seem like I’ve got it, but I’m slipping.

Even as we speak our last words, I can’t help but stumble and think,

“What do I say? Is there anything to say?”

And before I know it, it’s over. You’re gone.

Now, I just think about what could have been.

Would we still be friends?

Do you still think that I’m such a shallow person,

that I’d dip my hands into muddy water and pretend they’re clean?

Maybe. I know you’re confident in your convictions.

Maybe it’s easier for me to believe that, now that you’re gone.

Maybe you just regret making friends with me, since there was no closure. A simple “goodbye,” and the belief that I knew you.

But it still hurts. I see you, but you do not see me.

You know me, but it seems that I do not know you.

I remember you, but do you remember me?

I haven’t moved on, but you have.

Where are the words left unsaid?

I know where they are. Stuck in the back of my throat, coming to the forefront of my mind every few days of the week.

My bad.

I’ll stick to my own little bubble for now, so I don’t do the same to other people, that which I did to you.

It’s for both of our sakes.