You
I'm in an airplane. Why exactly should I believe in you anymore? I haven't really for a long time, if I'm being honest. Excuse the intermittent relapses triggered by dreams where you visit.
What will I have left once you fade entirely? Everything I've done and everything I've become since then has somehow involved you. The premise is nonsensical anyway. I struggle to remember the totality of your face. Except for your nose and your eyebrows. The abrupt curve at the tip of your nose was quite amusing, and I would often focus upon it when looking at your side-profile. You with your round nose. Catching each other stealing glances, intoxicated adolescents, deer in headlights. Unwilling, unable to break eye contact upon this happening - what wouldn't I give to sift through your mind in those moments? From the side, you presented a beautiful, bearable sight. Turn to the left, and you rip the blanket off. Wordlessly pleading, demanding I acknowledge you, reminding me you're a person. You would have to face the window when looking at me, but your eyes would still seem so dark. Your friend probably noticed. I don't think she held a very high opinion of me. Fucking bitch.
I wonder how much longer I could go on rambling about you. All that happened, it would reduce to these characters at the end of the day. I'm afraid to see exactly how minuscule you were. It's better to leave a few things unsaid, and vaguely overestimate their size.
I can't see you when I close my eyes. You liked it when I was rude, or even outright mean to other girls. I've never seen you laugh as hard as when I made that stupid joke. I'm lying in bed right now. I remember lying in bed then, grinning ear to ear, your laughter ringing in my head. Intermittently breaking out into fits of laughter as I went about my day, joy overflowing from within.
Was there really something special about you, or would just about any minimally qualified girl have sufficed? Stupid question, it was you.
Playing coy doesn't work when you attempt it tens of times a day, asking me the same question over and over. Not that I was complaining. Were you really that paranoid? You surely knew everything already.
I'm glad it was me who had to move away. I would have hated you if it were the other way around, regardless of how little choice you had in the matter. I can hate myself instead, and forgive you for dying.
It was greatly relieving to realise, as time went by, that I possessed no interest in the continued existence of your body, animated by a stranger as it is.
I won't betray you. I know, cold comfort to you now. I'll continue to live for your visits if you keep letting me see your face.