Running into a group of your friends reminds me of the unspoken agreement amongst the wounded to speak not of the source of pain which is the only things still binding us. We exchange pleasantries and desperately share trivialities so as not to appear entirely disinterested or hopelessly preoccupied by you. This act is painfully transparent to all involved, yet our nature insists on its continuance.
Not surprisingly, I've been utterly paralysed by refreshed thoughts of all that I have so pathetically longed for these past months. It never does get easier. That void remains.
It's been suggested to me that I discontinue all thoughts of you and rededicate my life to starting anew. This suggestion is about as useful to me as the suggestion that I simply stop thinking at all, just as possible to fulfil.
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