The Others

Every thought is a shortcut like this. I've been fantasizing for the last two hours about what I would do if I ever saw you again. But then, for some strange reason, my blood sugar went low and I can't remember you as just you, I remember you as everyone who has ever done this exact same thing to me. People are all the same, more or less. Everyone has the power to hurt you. Everyone will. You just try so hard to find the people who can make you happy about as often as they break your heart, and you've found a friend. You try so hard and then this thing happens: it's a cold panic, it's a long day, it's a little depression, it's a little mania, and now I can't help but think that I hate you. I must hate you a lot. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? This should have never happened. I want to erase everything I ever knew about you. I've done it before. I've done it well. But then this thing happens, and I remember every single time you ever touched me, literally, from a handshake to a hug, and it seems so insignificant in comparison to all the other people I have ever loved in my life and what are friends even for anyway? Why? I am my best friend, why can't I be my only friend? I remember that one time, years ago, you only loved her, but then why did you tell me...? This is how people....