Every now and again your name will pop up on my screen bringing me back to 2017.
Every now and again I’ll look up your name and see what you’re up to.
I’ll replay Kate Nash’s Nicest Thing on rare occasions when I come home warmed up by the night’s festivities and an extra shot of tequila.
And I’ll scroll through old memories…
I’ll dream up girlish fantasies of how one day I’ll be pleasantly surprised by awakening to the magical reality that we’d end up together.
And then the logical, adult, cynical part of me scoffs and laughs at the silly romantic in me.
And the silly romantic laughs at the cynic who doesn’t dare to dream.
I get shoved back into place by the strike of reality that says: MOVE THE FUCK ON. STOP GOING BACK THERE. STOP FANTASIZING AND RELIVING THE PAST. JUST STOP!
Then I’m over it. I get in my flow. I forget your existence.
And on a random Wednesday afternoon, there it is…
The devil’s name across my screen.
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