The wound II

Every day, every single day, I wake up with a heart ache. My mind is thinking about you, and my heart... it is hurting. As if a piece of it has been pulled out.

The piece that I gave to you, one of the most wonderful friends I've made in the recent past. It has gone missing. And what meaning is left in life without it? If someone who knows me as well as you do doesn't understand me, what can I expect of someone else.

Why did this happen? Have you thought about it? Probably not. It seems you don't even care. Your reaction, and your behavior in general, makes me feel that all the memories of you and me that I have in my mind are mere figments of my imagination.

It's as if I'm a schizophrenic - I'm forming memories of events that never happened, of love and care that was never shown to me, of a bond that never existed, of friends who never were.

Or has the world, including you, become amnesic? Selective amnesia, it is, perhaps. The tendency to remember all hate that you've shown and you've been shown and the tendency to forget all love that you've expressed or felt.

But then, does it even matter what it really is? Because irrespective of what it is, the current situation is that I'm dying, and I'm dying alone because you are not with me. And, that you don't even seem concerned.