Do you ever wonder that you may, in fact, be going crazy?
I have some time to kill in town, so decided to sit by the City Hall and read. I noticed two guys sitting by the grass, one bearded and fair, the other clean cut and dark. They sparked my interest initially because they had a guitar case, so I thought they may be in the festival. Within about two seconds, I noticed the dark one moved and looked just like my epic epic ex. He was like an older version. Or was he older?
From my viewpoint, I started to panic that it was in fact him. I mean really panic. I ran it through in my head, if he was over, he'd tell me, right? Like a psycho, I realised my weekend would be tortuous if I didn't find out, so like a freak I moved from my chair to walk, what,100 yards to a new one with a better view.
It is not him. In fact, movements aside, he bears little resemblance. I'm posting this confession of low lying madness up in the vague hope it might embarrass my insane subconscious enough to prevent a repeat performance...
Is it love or grief when you still, after...two and a half years, still feel like you've been punched in the stomach when you pseudo-glimpse your ex?
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