I can’t wait to see you again.

Even if this time, it isn’t within you.

On my run, I saw you. I saw your face. Your body. Maybe I am just looking for you in places you don’t exist.

I did that for a long time you know.

But the other day, I had a dream. And I told L.

It was about you. You told me that everyone in your dream was a paid actor. For some reason, you needed to pretend you had a girlfriend (and for some reason, a child?… odd addition in the dream) so that you could get something. I can’t remember what.

In the dream, you told me you’ve never truly loved anyone since me. That you’ve never felt the way you did since me.

That everything else was fake.

Maybe that’s what I hope. Maybe that’s I thought was real. Maybe it is.

But today. I saw you. Running along the river. And you saw me.

Maybe a part of you. Maybe through the form of someone or something else.

I was scared to look too closely. Because you were also looking at me. You. Or the you in some other form.

But I was scared to know if it really was. I didn’t even look closely enough to be sure. Maybe to leave room to wonder. Maybe to leave room to imagine. Maybe to leave room to feel like it was really you. Maybe I want to know you saw me. Maybe I want it to be a possibility.

Because a possibility feels safer than knowing. Safer than knowing it wasn’t. Maybe safer than knowing that it really was.

I see you everywhere and in everything. Even after I forget you, I keep seeing you everywhere. When truly, you are nowhere. Maybe you were the only thing I ever had that was real. Even after so many years. Even after so many others.

Maybe it means I will have you again. Maybe I will have you again. Maybe not through you.