Like Strawberry Fields

Did we ever like each other so much, or was it always my scenario? I emailed you. I don't know how many times. More than a million, I reckon. You "forgot" to reply. Did you really? If you did, then let me slap you in the face with the psychology behind forgetting.

Forgetting something or someone means you don't care. As simple as that. This person never went as far into your long-term memory. She did not matter to you. And after some time, you didn't forget anymore. You simply ignored me. Unreturned emails and IM chats and tweets. How many more proofs did I seek? Wasn't it clear as crystal?

It was. I just wanted to believe the opposite. I wanted to feel like I mattered. I wanted you to be different from everyone else. I wanted to be patient. To be there for you. I thought I found a friend I always wished for. But I was wrong.

There is no other lifetime. No other me. No other you. This is all we have. And remember: I never asked for you to love me. I never asked for something I could not have. I know my place. Consolation, not love. I only hoped that you would be there for me when I needed you the most. Of all people, I thought you would understand this.

You accepted me for who I am without my conspicuous effort. When did you give up on me? When did you become everyone else? Without my initiative, there will be no communication. The disposable. 

Didn't I say enough? Didn't I try enough? Too much of it. You knew I needed you. I just thought you would be different. Now I know I was so wrong about you. Misperception. What else is new. I saw things that were not there.

That girl you liked so very much. She didn't talk to you for one day and you were hysterical. I can never be her. I won't ever be. But wouldn't it be nice? If only someone could feel about me exactly the way you felt about her. Like I mattered.

Remember.

Saturday, February 11, 2012, 10:00 PM

Like strawberry fields is from Bush's song "Glycerine".