seventy two hours :: lrh

diciannove

dear mr. fluffles,

          it has been seventy two hours since the last time i talked to her. and, of course, the last words she said to me were, 'fuck you.' i know, pretty sweet, huh?

          you see, she has been avoiding me, mr. fluffles. that same day, i followed her but she looked back at me and told me if i didn't leave her alone she would never talk to me again. so i left her. and i felt so stupid because even if i did do what she wanted or at least told me to do, she still didn't say a word to me. 

          i knocked on her door, nobody answered. i called her up on the phone, still no answer. i texted her about 962862 times already, but still, no luck for me. at work, i would come up to her and try to make small talk but she would just continue mopping the goddamn floor. i never thought i would be jealous of a floor, for god's sake.

but i know she would talk to me again, someday. you know why? because she didn't say goodbye, and goodbye meant i would never see her again. but i still do, and i'm still hoping for that someday to come.

          it has been seventy two hours since the last time i had a decent sleep at night. you see, mr. fluffles, when she stopped talking to me, the nightmares came back again. and as my hopes of talking to her were still high, my hours started to go low.

from,

roby.