November 24, 2006
She was just another face in the crowd. Nothing that happened between us was important anymore. She was an outlet for my misanthropy in dark moments on desolate nights. Now she could be anyone or no one, and it did not matter and whether she was living or dying. I could see the ghost of our romance screaming in her eyes, but to me it was a jaded and vague memory that had wilted away with time. Her tears made me feel like a monster, but that feeling strengthened my resolve and let me pass by without speaking her name.