Why'd Ya Sing Hallelujah If It Means Nothing To Ya

Those are the things I miss the most. The little idiosyncrasies that only I know about: that's what made her my wife. Oh she had the goods on me too, she knew all my little peccadilloes. People call these things imperfections, but there not. Ah, that's the good stuff.
--Good Will Hunting

Some days I feel like I'm waiting for something that's just never going to happen. I feel like a fool for tossing my heart to you thinking you'd actually catch it. I feel like that poor kid who stays on as equipment manager hoping that one day the coach will see him fooling around on the field after practice and finally put him in as catcher.
Actually I pretty much feel like this every single day.

But there are moments...
There are moments when I remember one of those weird little things you did. I remember that you'd have these little muscle spasms when you were napping. I remember that time we read Candide and you couldn't pronounce "Cunégonde" or any of the other names, but you didn't care because you were reading in the stupidest voice I ever heard. Neither one of us kept a straight face, even though you claim to practice yours in the mirror. Once it broke, you couldn't bring it back.
There are moments when I wake up and want to call you because hearing your voice, even if you were annoyed with me, would calm me enough to let me go back to sleep.
There are hours that I listen to that set of songs on repeat because of where they take me.
I have 5 Damien Rice albums. I've only listened to three songs in the last 5 months or so. You know which ones. I even learned how to play one of them on the guitar...
Oh, and the kicker -- I still cry when the wind blows because I can't not remember sitting on the curb not understanding what was going on.

But you don't, do you? You don't think about any of it anymore. You don't miss me. I'm just a punch line.

That's how I feel most days at some point or another. But there's this other part of me that won't really believe that. There's another part still that refuses to back down even if that is true. Which, I realize, is sort of sick. I never said I was well.

You don't even know. You never read this. You've proabably forgotten most of everything. Probably too busy pushing someone else away before they can leave.

I'm in an interesting mood today. Probably best just to leave me be.