As I take this subway ride home, I can't help but to reminisce about the days when my eyes used to smile. It's funny how quickly the time has passed. It seems like just yesterday, we were exchanging numbers at the Heather Hadley/Anthony Hamilton concert. I had on a Baby Tee that read: Music Is a Girl's Best Friend and my favorite pair of bootcut 7 jeans. You approached me, asking if you could be my new best friend. Now, here I am, five years later, writing you this letter.
It's funny how 60 minutes can change a lifetime. You were my addiction. I neglected reality. That is until we were reacquainted today at my 1:00 appointment.
I consumed the news like a SweetTart. Isn't it crazy how the same information that restores your peace of mind, can destroy it at the same time? For the past two years, I've been struggling to put to together the broken pieces of our relationship; all the while blaming myself for the unexplained distance, your sudden lack of interest in sex, and your constant emotional outbursts.
I still remember the frightened expression you wore when we ran into Regina (your ex-girlfriend from 6 years ago) at a local charity event. I instantly erased my insecurities and replaced them with admiration for your compassion. Her corpse-like appearance had to be the reason for her number all of a sudden showing up on your call log. I convinced myself you were just being a friend.
It seems that the precautionary measures you took (i.e. abstaining from alcohol AND sex, obsessing over OUR diet, and frequent visits for your "flu-like symptoms" ) weren't enough to avoid the inevitable. Your honesty in the beginning, could have been a cure all.Instead, I'm left with a 4x6 diagnosis card that reads: POSITIVE/NO CURE.