It's funny. Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.

Somehow it still bothers me. No big deal, I just want to know that you are all right and that you feel better. I know I can’t write to you. It wouldn’t do any good – to you and to me. I would start to talk about our glorious past, you would claim that there is no need to come back to those times and now you’re perfectly fine. I know you would, you used to do that a lot. You even tricked me few times, I really was convinced thay you don’t give a damn and I was sad and angry because of it.
Now I know you cared. And that you also suffered after we split. You suffered much more than I did, because you took me to almost every place you usually go to, I was in your room, I slept in your bed, I wore your shirts. So I’m not angry that you became sore and tried to push me away.
I know that I can’t be your friend, not now at least. It’s a little bit sad, but at least I understand. Do you know, what I would like to do the most?
I’d like to appear in front of you, - just like that. Maybe as some kind of ghost or vision. When I lay in bed I’m trying to concentrate on you, and appear in your dream. I would wear your shirt – the one you gave me and I painted it green, red and orange. In this vision it is still black-and-white. You would be lying on your bed, your head turned to the wall. I would sit next to you and touch your arm gently. Then I’d embrace you and whisper quietly to your ear: “I’m sorry for the whole pain I gave you. I hope you’re ok now.” Then I would kiss you in the forehead and stay with you until you fall asleep again.

Heart! We will forget him!

Heart, we will forget him!
You an I, tonight!
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.

When you have done, pray tell me
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you're lagging.
I may remember him!
(Emily Dickinson)

Heh, easy to say. I still remember him in very peculiar way. i remember his voice, his kisses and his hands. I wonder how he could've felt while touching my body. His face... I cannot bare to look at his face, even on the pictures. It seems hostile to me, because oh how he was acting towards me recently. I just...
I've got Itachi's syndrome again, my mind blocks the things that are too tiring to think about. And that is good.