What I really wanted to ask was, do you like her? What a stupid question, of course he does. Do you like her a lot? Do you like her now more than you liked me then? Is she the one? Do you feel sure with her, sure in a way you never did with me?
But of course, I didn't ask any of those things. I smiled and said, I'm happy for you. What I really meant was, I'm unhappy for myself. But I didn't say that.
And how've you been doing? He asked me. Well, I said. Except...
Except what? He asked.
Remember when I used to freak out about dying? I said. I've been doing that a lot these days. I just think of how I have to die and I get so afraid. Is that normal?
He laughed and said, stop doing that, you're crazy.
I laughed back and said, maybe.
But I don't think I'm crazy. I guess I should have been more clear. I guess I should have said, I'm not really afraid of dying. I'm really afraid of dying alone. I'm so afraid of being alone.
Is that crazy?
Sometimes I just feel this crushing loneliness that I don't know how to escape from. I thought it would stop when I moved out of New York City. But it's followed me here. It keeps following me and it won't leave. And I've really tried so hard to leave it behind.
Sometimes I wonder, am I alone in this world? And if I am, am I strong enough to live through it? Because I don't think I am.
But I didn't say any of these things.
Don't fuck it up this time, I said to him. He laughed. I won't, he said. You take care of yourself, ok?