Becoming Jasmine Star 4 Greetings From Me Too You.

The sound used to plague me all throughout the night and I would happily sacrifice sleepless hours chatting with a friend.

This morning was not one of those times.

I guess that one could say I have developed a certain fear of being near anyone, or anything that would connect me to someone, my phone being the main culprit.

Which isn't as sad as it sounds.

All the people I once to call friends are gone.

They all vanished the same day she did.

Though, I don't completely blame them for it, to stick around a person who's depressed every time you see them... it's exasperating.

The nights I find myself alone with nothing to do has increased. And walking home from work instead of driving was supposed to be good for me.

But last night I found myself in a bar with an old friend.

Let's catch up for old times sake!" he said.

I was mindlessly walking to the bus stop when he grabbed my shoulder turning me towards him.

To put it nicely he made me feel uncomfortable.

He had a oddly optimistic youthfulness that some might call charismatic. But is what I a.s.sociate with naivety.

We mostly caught up with with what he's been doing since we parted ways in high-school.

Which was fine by me.

He lived abroad for the past six years, which I was relived to hear, left him out of the loop with the happenings of old friends.

Another wave of apologies, another look of pity would've driven me right up the street the nearest psych ward.

'It's fine, there is no need to talk abut me, they don't want to know anyway. It only makes everything uncomfortable.'

It was true, no one needed to know.

Plus, the liquor, which strangely went down as easy as water was starting to take effect, making the company more pleasant.

Hours pa.s.sed and somehow we managed to not step on landmines which would've ruined the night for both of us.

Also, it could've been the fact that the both of us being completely drunk made us immune to any offensive commentary. Forgetting them as soon as they came out of our mouths.

It was in the earl hours of the morning when I sent him off in a cab, his drunken babble, incomprehensible, somehow made me laugh, like a heard or understood any of it.

After somewhat of a struggle, I slung him into the backseat.

"Hey, remember that girl you used to date back in high school?"

His voice was still jovial with a hint of quit reminiscence.

The air around me suddenly turned cold.

"What was her name again? Jen- Jenny?"

The light airy mood which I lived in for the past four hours turned dense.

The veil of intoxication was ripped from my eyes and I stood in the ugly world of knowledge. There was no one else on the street and the air was humid to the point of being suffocating.

Black hair stuck to my forehead and my s.h.i.+rt wrinkled and had the slight sent of sweat on it.

My throat was dry and burning, as if I didn't drink a thing since I got up this morning.
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He still had that optimistic look in his eyes, making me want to slam the door and send him on his way.

'He doesn't know. You didn't tell him, it's your fault not his.'

I can't remember anything I said after that and getting home was a blur as well.

I remember laying in bed, lights off, thinking about the past. Remembering the weight of her laying snugly in my arms, the smell of her vanilla lavender body-wash invading every corner of our small studio, and all the "little treasures" she would buy every time she went shopping, even if it was to simply get milk. They still haunt the shelves, dressed in white dust like ghosts. I still haven't gotten rid of them like I'm supposed too.

How is getting rid of them helping?

"Ding!"

The sound of my phone chiming so late at night does not send a twinge of excitement like it should, but rather sends me clawing deeper into those memories.

'She wouldn't want you to to hide from moving on...she wants you to be happy.'

Lies.

I'm sure she would want me to miss her everyday with all my being and I do.

'Don't drown yourself. It's not good to lay in bed all day thinking of the good times. Take some time off work, meet up with friends, are you going on those walks? When was the last time you talked with your parents?'

Did it matter? Our relations.h.i.+p has been on the rocks and they probably don't want to talk to me the same way I don't want to talk to them. I'd rather lay in bed and listen to her quietly bad mouth her co-workers trying to make up an excuse to stay home.

I open my eyes room still dark, fan still blowing on my face.

I grab my phone off the nightstand and turn it on. My eyes snap shut as the brightness burns the back of my already dry eyes.

Logging into social media I was greeted with eighteen unread messages.

I scroll through them wondering if I should open and respond to them. I look through them and cringe at the fact that these were sent months ago and by now it's too late to respond right?

They're probably just formalities anyway.

I keep scrolling until I spot a message ent.i.tled "Greetings from me too you." It was sent three hours ago at the late hours of twelve a.m.

"Why would anyone send a message so late at night?"

Despite saying that I still opened the message...

"h.e.l.lo Sir, It's been awhile since you sent that message and I have been pondering on what to say in response."

"1. I would like to apologize for causing any confusion that my have occurred during that time.

2. I have no idea what to say to one who had suffered a great loss.

3. I would like to get to now you even if we previously didn't know each other. If you don't mind, please tell me a bit about yourself! (If not I could go first!) I'll be waiting for your response!

Best wishes,"

J.S.

Honestly, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.