Messy Mind Writings

Fluke

July 3, 2015

It was a fluke.
A damned fucking fluke that threw my heart hammering against my ribs and had my brain oh-so-stupidly dredging up how it was too perfect to be a coincidence -- it had to be some sign from God even--
But then not a second later the pain had grabbed me tight by the throat.
Because it was a fluke.
I told myself this over and over as I stared at my stupid phone, the pain now easily overcoming my fruitless excitement.
Things like this happened. Little things like this happen when you hold onto the pointless pieces of What If. This piece happened to be the last texting - conversation we'd had in months, kept in my phone because - even though I didn't even read the casual little exchange - I was too pathetic to let it go. I'd decided then that now was the time to dissolve my feelings and be done (as I'd done before) and get rid of this evidence of my weakness - my attachment to you. I of course held onto the things you'd given me prior to our departure (those 2 teddy bears and a note) because I claimed myself to be kind; how could I get rid of gifts?
But the messages on my phone were something I could handle to be rid of. I'd found the conversation amidst the others and quickly hit 'delete', and it had been pretty simple and easy. I didn't feel any pain. Just hope.
Hope that with this I could learn to let go of you and the grip you had on me. Or rather, the grip my heart had onto dreams of you. Or something like that.
I hadn't thought about it once I'd picked up my phone, unlocked it and nearly panicked.

"Why didn't you just text me?"

The message you'd sent me - the first text you'd sent me in months - questioning why I hadn't texted you instead of messaging you on Facebook like I had that last week of school about the earlier mentioned teddy bears. That was the last message from our conversation in my phone, blasting at me like some divine accusation.
Every other message had been deleted. It was just a fluke that my phone had locked to leave that question - the first message in our last conversation - left to haunt me...

A fluke.
A coincidence.

I know that our roads don't connect, can't intertwine the way my stupid heart would want, but why do all the damn signs point to you?

Because these damn flukes hurt.