Sometimes, the sound of goodbye is louder than any drumbeat.

It’s been forever and a day since I posted something here. I haven’t checked the date of my last post, so I don’t know how much time has passed, honestly. I think over a year, though. Anyway. There’s something I want to admit, and I want the universe to know it. 

About five months ago, my brother asked about you. I don’t recall how you came up in our conversation, but you did. And it caught me so off guard, my brother asking about you (and the fact that he remembers you), that for an entire moment, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t swallow my own spit. For an entire moment of my life, I was absolutely lifeless. And then I remembered I was sitting in the car with my brother eating burgers, and he was expecting an answer sometime this century. 

Do you want to know what I said? I said you’re fine. I said you were living your own life, you were in school, you were looking for a new place to live. And the entire time, in the back of my mind I kept hearing this voice saying, “How can you possibly know he’s fine? That he’s still in school, that he hasn’t already found a new home? You can’t know, because when he told you these things, it was mid 2010. Now it’s late 2011.” And I knew that voice made an insanely good point. How could I talk about you like I knew what was going on with you? I admitted later in the conversation that you and I weren’t talking anymore, but I made it sound like it was a decision. A mutual one. That’s exactly what it wasn’t. You and I both know you got caught up in your life that you couldn’t make time for me anymore; that you and I drifted apart over the course of months.

How I hated that. I wanted so badly to talk to you again, but there was no way. A few months after our very last conversation, I couldn’t find you. Anywhere. Not over here, not over there. Nowhere. And that’s when I knew you and I would never speak again. At least, that’s what it feels like. I’m 95% sure we will never speak to each other again. It was as if you erased yourself from existence. There were no records of you to be found. My messages to you were sent to cyberspace, the void of the universe. It was as if I’d never met you. And that broke my heart. 

After several weeks, I had begun to accept our fate. Or lack thereof. By the time fall had begun, it was something that was as fact as gravity. But like all scientific theories, there was a shadow of a doubt. That when I finally decided to fly that 1181 miles, we might run into each other. We might spot each other in the airport, make eye contact and think, “Wow, isn’t that person familiar-looking,” and then suddenly realize we were looking at an old friend. Or maybe I’d go out with my family, or own my own, and out of the blue I’d see someone who looked so much like you that my breath would hitch in my throat and I’d freeze like someone had turned my body to ice. And it would not be a look-alike, but you, actually you, and you would recognize me. I’d see the recognition flit across your features and my heart would fill so rapidly with warmth and happiness that I could die. But that’s not going to happen. 

In the time it’s taken to push you to the back of my mind, I finally felt at peace with our goodbye, though it was never said aloud. I thought, maybe it’s good that you didn’t outright say to me that you were leaving, because maybe having that substantial proof of it all would just have left me in millions of pieces. So I’m glad. I’m glad you never said goodbye, but I’m also wounded that you didn’t bother. I’m not sure what you did, leaving me hanging like that, but whatever it was, it was infinitely better than saying “This is farewell.” Because the farewell you gave me was so you. It was you through and through. I don’t mean to say it’s in your nature to suddenly disappear from someone’s life, intentionally cruel, but I (still) think you’re the kind of guy whose actions are louder than words. 

It’s been at least 14 months since we last exchanged words. I’ve forgotten when our last conversation took place. But, somehow, despite all my efforts to forget – or at least repress – all memories of you, you’re still ever present in my soul. You know what they say: absence makes the heart grow fonder. 

Where was life when it had meaning? Nothing’s real anymore…

So a few days ago – the 20th, to be exact – I marked a special day. For us. Maybe you don’t remember, maybe you never even noticed, but that day…it’s the day that started The Prolonged Silence. Err, that’s what I’m calling it, for now. Basically, the 20th of November in the year 2009, was the last time I spoke to you before you suddenly blipped off my radar.

I have no idea why I remember that. Hell, I don’t remember the day I met you. The week, yes, but not the day specifically. It was either April 9th, 10th, or the 11th. In all honesty, it really bothers me that I can’t remember.

See, the day I met you was followed by three years’ worth of days filled with laughs and fights and jokes and debates and sheer ridiculousness. I remember the following September, of 2007, you disappeared for over a month. But you came back, so I didn’t freak. But then November 20th, 2009 rolled around…and suddenly it was as if we’d never met.

I didn’t know what to make of it. Your spontaneous absence, I mean. I thought, Oh, maybe this is another September of ’07. He’ll be back. So I waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And waited – until I realized that I was waiting for you to come back. It hit me that you were gone a lot longer than a month this time around. I thought maybe that you’d gotten in trouble. I hoped you didn’t. I thought maybe you’d moved somewhere else again. I hoped you did. I thought maybe you’d finally seen reason and decided that talking to me was now unacceptable. I didn’t know what to hope for then. A little part of me was just happy you were going on with your life, making something out of it. That your decision to quite our conversation was for the better. But the bigger part of me, the naive idiot part, was absolutely devastated you weren’t talking to me anymore. That part was also very frustrated you were leaving me hanging like that. With no word of goodbye, no less.

Days stretched into weeks. Weeks stretched into months. By late January, I was nearly having breakdowns every other night. Sometime in February, I began to think that I was better off with your decision, too. But then March snuck up on me, the desperate urge to talk to you with it, and I couldn’t help myself anymore. I sent you that message and hoped with all my heart you’d answer within twenty-four hours, even though the voice in the back of my head told me I’d have to wait another few days. Maybe even longer.

You answered me, and everything felt so much better. …But then two weeks later I realized that my second message to you was never replied to. And my ridiculous depression seeped into me again. For the next several weeks, we spoke sporadically, but nowhere near as much as I’d have liked.

Then it was the month of your birthday. Your most important birthday. The week of it, actually. I was playing your game, making you wait a while for my reply, too. But that was my last message to you for two months. I was afraid you’d forgotten me again, intentionally ignored me again.

You sent your reply in July…and that was it. Nothing more. And I finally thought that I could get along without you. And I did. I felt good. I felt proud, proud that I was getting along with you just fine. I was living my life without you, the way I was supposed to. My life would have been so much more easy if I just hadn’t sent you that “hi” in April of 2006.

It’s been a whole year since The Prolonged Silence between us started. Over 365 days. 369, to be exact. I was on a roll, sweetheart. I don’t get on rolls often. I blame that on my supposed commitment issues.

And then a few weeks ago, you sent me your reply. Or, at least, I think it is. I’m not sure. I haven’t gone to look. I haven’t. I’m too scared. I’m too proud of my time without you. You shouldn’t have come back. You should have kept away. Because for days all I could think about was reading your message. But I didn’t. I’ve been holding myself back. I don’t want to be disappointed again. I know I will be, I keep telling myself. But I’m curious to see what you’ve said. Maybe it’s another apology for falling off the face of the earth. Again. Will you give me an excuse, or will I have to ask for one? I don’t want to. I don’t want to ask you anything.

Well, there’s one thing I want to ask you. Just one.

Did you miss me, too?

It was a thousand to one, and million to two…

I wonder if you know how long it’s been. Since you last spoke to me, I mean. I do. June. That was over three months ago.

 

What’s so special about today? Is it because it’s 10.10.10? Is that some sort of significant, magical number to you? 28 is, for me. You know why? Because it’s your birthday. The 28th. Whenever it’s the 28th minute of the hour, or the 28th day of the month, I think of you.

 

I’ve been waiting for your response forever. I’d begun to think you’d forgotten me. Again. Err, well, I can’t say “again”, because in truth I have no way of knowing you actually forgot me once. You don’t exactly tell me these things,  you know. Then again, why would you tell anyone you forgot them? That’s just rude. I see. Maybe you were being considerate – …unconsciously – and just being nice about it. I don’t know. Like I said before, there’s no way I could know.

 

You know, I liked to think you’d tell me anything and everything. But this past year obviously attests that you don’t even remember to return my messages. I don’t mean to badmouth you or anything, but this has never happened before, your forgetting for so long. Now that I think about it, the longest you didn’t say anything to me was from November to …what was it, March? Yeah. So that was about 3 and half months. This time, it was June to October. That makes…another 3 and a half months. Wow. Are you timing this?

 

Sorry. That was mean. I just feel a little resentful. That’s understandable, right? I mean, you haven’t spoken to me in months. Granted, I didn’t suffer like I did last time, but nevertheless, I did suffer. I’m torn between forgiving you, because I know you have your own life and all and I respect that, and whacking myself across the face for thinking you wronged me in some way. Part of me thinks you’re feeling remorseful for ignoring me for so long, and another part of myself is calling me stupid because you didn’t actually do anything wrong. And some other part of me is still trying to forget you altogether. Let me tell you, that particular part of me is pretty relentless. My mind in general is pretty obstinate about these kinds of things, but this specific little bit of it has been throwing logic my way left and right for the past year. I don’t know who to listen to anymore: my hopeful heart, or my no-nonsense brain. It’s ridiculous.

 

I wanted to say something really quick before I disappear again. This isn’t some project for me. I’m not committing myself to this, because this is for when I’m completely overwhelmed by what I want so desperately to say to you, or when I’m in the mood for this. The latter was the case today. I don’t think I could handle saying all this if I was overwhelmed with emotion; I tend to overdo the dramatics and angst when I’m overly emotional, so I try to avoid this place when I am. Because the things I say to you here are truly from my heart, and I don’t want my heart-thoughts to be pathetic rants of depression and sorrow. No, I want them to be meaningful and deep and exactly what I feel.

 

I want you to really take what I say here to heart and consider what the soul 1181 miles away from you feels like when you’re gone.

You’re rejecting me once again with your evil twin – you’re a devil in disguise

I need a way to say all the things I ever want to say to you without risking the chance you’ll think I’m high, or just plain crazy.

It’s kind of strange how I have all these ideas about you. It’s hard to explain. I think of you as this person who’s unconditionally understanding, someone who doesn’t judge without having a reason to. I’ve always thought of you as someone who didn’t have to try to get what I was saying, because you already get it. And I imagined that you laughed at my intellectual jokes and references to pop culture. Above all, though, I was under the impression that you and I just click.

I’m not sure what I think of you now. When we first met, you were unbelievably cool in my eyes. You were the guy everyone wanted to be friends with because the things you said and the things you liked were beyond the expectations people had for you. Now…you seem like the kind of guy who everyone doesn’t know because you hang out with a crowd that no one is familiar with. And it isn’t an outcast crowd or anything, just a group of people who don’t socialize with a wide array of their community.

There was a time when I took our unlikely friendship completely for granted. And that was when you first disappeared. A couple of months later, the kind of person you truly were began to dawn on me. The friends you have now aren’t the friends you had then. You kept to yourself when you wanted to and forgot about everyone else. Then last year, in November, you magically disappeared again. Except this time, it seems the only thing you forgot was me. All this time, it never occurred to me that I wasn’t as important a person to you as you are to me. Since we sent the first few messages to each other, I never though that I was forgettable to you. I guess I just always assumed that I was a significant part of your life. Maybe that was another idea I was wrong about, too.

Hello world!

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!