Hooked

I braved myself to look at his pictures, didn’t really know what for, just felt like it. Surely after some months of him being gone, today, finally he would not mean anything to me but some old memory, some distant recollection that a long, long time ago we acknowledged each other’s existence, felt something, but never had the guts to do anything about it.

Memories of him are just dreams, endless thoughts, some tears, and lots of frustration. One big question never answered.

Imagine my surprise when the first picture of him popped on my screen from a company gathering three years ago, no less, old feelings came rushing back. The old familiar twitch, the same admiration, the same tingling in my hands, in my stomach, the same hope, the same “Oh my God!”, the same longing, the familiar ping of happiness mixed with sadness, the same “what-ifs”.

My hand quickly closed over my mouse and I right-clicked on every picture with him on it: Save picture as. For future reference. What future reference? Those short emails that I’ve saved from two years back, those even shorter SMS that filled my phone inbox but never got around throwing away? Those unfinished stories that I wrote and sometime wonder what the end would be like? What for?

It. Sucks.

I hope I never see you again in my life.

I'm so over this. Please get out of my mind. Get out from every cell in my body that still wants you. Get out from every unconscious thought that convince me that I’m missing you. Forget the fact that every time someone mentions your name, to this day, my heart still does a little double flip. Just. Get. Out.

You are the drug that got me hooked.