Silence

Here we are. Here we both are. Same place. Same time.
Waiting for you to come up with something is like waiting for the day that pigs could fly, or for someone to call me up in the middle of the night and tell me that I've just inherited $500 million and a villa in the south of Spain.
It's a dream. An impossible dream, at that. So I think it's best that we just go on ignoring each other as usual. I actually am astounded with myself. Why do I even bother going through all the trouble? You don't care. So neither should I.
Tempting as it is to click on your name and get my lame heart racing at 100 mph again, I'll maintain my false pretense of indifference. Being poker-faced has never taken on a more practical side.
Sometimes my mind wanders, governed by its own free will. Lol. It pauses at the most inappropriate places to ponder over questions I don't have any answers to. Like, do I ever cross your mind? Ever? What kind of emotions do you feel when you see my name pop up on your computer screen? Have you ever imagined at least once that I'd be sitting on the bench by the side of the field cheering you on like I used to, as you run up and down the grass, chasing the ball? Don't you ever want to see me again; even if it's just a split-second glimpse? Ever wished that I'd call you sometime to ask how your day has been?
I think not.
Too bad letting go didn't come with the manual.