Something strange happened today, and I thought you were behind all of it, which is, of course, very stupid. It's too unlikely. It couldn't be you, could it? Even after all these years, you still have that power over me. That power to make me think that the whole universe is in a long-term conspiracy to bring you back to me someday. Everyone says that I deserve my own fairy tale; but I deserve the truth too, and this is me facing it. Holding on to it. Because someday I will have no memory of it; of you. Someday, you, who was once a reality, will become an idea. A perfect (though romanticised) idea, that the world was once a good place to live in. And then it stroke me: you'll never be able to keep in touch with me again. I've lost that email; lost that one, single, unforgettable email you sent me some time after that. You couldn't ever find a way to talk to me again even if you want to someday; even if the lightning struck you and you lost your consciousness and woke up with some completely bizarre idea to call me. You can't. And I can't. So it's time to let it all go.
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