Day Three

Whether Jez doesn't want any contact with me because he can't contain his feelings every time we talk or because he hasn't any more feelings for me I'll never know.

He might not realise it, but he has switched between the two stories so often that I've wondered whether they're both false, and that the true reason was something else entirely.

I was never a mystery. I don't want to be with Jez because I'm not a sadist, but all my feelings, my stupid, stubborn feelings for him remain exactly as they've always been. Except there's a little bit of hate, but that's only to be expected, isn't it?

I've read stories about people who have had one love they never managed to forget, and I can't think of anything more frightening than falling into this category because of Jez. Nevertheless I know that I'm young, and that there is probably a good chance I'll remember all of this some years (or months, I hope) into the future with a smile and not a hint of stabbing pain in my chest.

I've been in love before. At first glance it's obvious to me that I've never loved anyone like I loved Jez. But imagine breaking your arm. The pain is excruciating and you spend months wearing a cast, partially disabled and deprived of all of the two-armed activities you've taken for granted. Then once the cast is taken off and you're on a beach playing volleyball, someone asks you how painful it was to break a limb. You say, "it wasn't that bad", because you've already forgotten.

I rack my brains, but just like the distant memory of a broken arm, simply remembering the pain doesn't compare to actually feeling it. I can feel my love for Jez. I have only a memory of my love for Eddie. There were no parameters for comparison.

My friend had reminded me that Jez himself proved how easy, how spontaneous and how unexpected meeting someone could be. It's never where you look, and it's never what you'd expect. Right now I don't harbour the thought any longer than it takes to write this paragraph. Right now it doesn't matter to me.

It's funny that I miss Jez for such different reasons than I had before. For unexplained-but-most-likely-hormonal reasons, the last break-up left me craving sex. I missed every minute we spent in his bed, it drove me absolutely crazy. After the previous break-ups, I craved the little physical things. Cuddles. Kisses. Grinning at each other like a couple of silly idiots.

Right now, it hurts the most that I can't crawl into bed and call him to tell him about the trivial little things that happened during my day. I can't tell him about the most recent stupid thing I've done and make him laugh. We can't discuss NDS games. We can't make jokes at each other's expense. We can't talk ourselves sleepy about absolutely nothing at all.

I miss my friend.