This

I said, does she have good taste in music? He said, not as good as yours. I said, that's good.

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?