By some magical way or another I spoke to you the other day, after going on almost two years it must be. It feels like forever and no time at all rolled into one, but there you go. It was awkward, as conversations between long lost whatevers over the internet usually are. But it was nice, I forget how much I miss you sometimes, the hours and hours we used to talk, planning stupid days and dates and dinners. You made me feel better, constantly smiling, always. And then as usual I messed it up. I know it was my fault, I can’t blame anyone else. I thought that there could be something better out there, like I always do. I never take what I have, I’m always looking for something else. So talking to you was strange, and nostalgic, and kind of sad actually.
Anyway, we talked politely and you asked what I was doing now. Working non-stop, finished university, been around Europe for the month. You sarcastically told me that I already in Europe, and I refrained from biting back and starting my usual ‘I don’t think of the UK as part of Europe, because I don’t drink a bottle of wine for lunch’ stereotypical and worn down argument. Then I told you about Korea, and how I can hardly think about anything else. That’s when you said it, and that`s why I remembered why we don’t talk anymore. ‘You’re just running away again aren’t you’. not even a question. Just the truth, he knows it, I know it, and so does everyone else. But all I can think is: and why the hell not?? I would rather be faced with the knowledge that I have spent the last three years ‘running away’ and am going to carry on ‘running away’ for a long time coming, than stay in this pathetic little town. Rather that than to be surrounded by pathetic little people, who think that buying busy lizzies on a bank holiday, and eating their picnics in their cars, going on holiday to benidorm every year is as good as it gets, and then complain when they’re forty years old in a mariage they hate, with children they resent, that they never did anything with their lives. But the point is, they never even tried.
So, as lovely as it was to talk to you, I’m glad that whatever we had ended, and that we never got to have any of those days, or dates, or dinners. Even though that one you planned and emailed to me was everything I could want for a date, and probably never have. I know that you’re happy being away from that now, like I am. I know that you’re getting on with the things you love in life, and you’re making it happen. I’m just sorry that you could never quite understand my hatred for everything that you adored. I won’t be replying to your last email, so I suppose this is just a way to get it all out. Maybe one day I’ll finally make it to your hometown instead of visiting all the ones around it. You never know.
