Silence is Louder Than Bombs

I know I wrote that I'm not going to post here anymore, but this kind of post seems appropriate for this blog since it's about past things and this is my past. I hate how so many things remind me of you, of what happened, and of what didn't. I wish that I didn't have to talk about it, or you, but I can't help myself. You were a huge part of my life for so long that now I need the memory of you to make things whole. I don't want to feel this way and all I want to do is talk to you about it, but I can't; I've tried. I wrote you that letter, that long letter as my best attempt at maybe making things better, but you were silent. I texted you just wanting to know that you were okay, and again there was silence. I hate the silence. I hate that I have to ask your friends how you are, and not get to hear about all this amazing things from you. I feel terrible talking to the new friends I've made about you endlessly whenever something that reminds me of you comes up, but again, I can't help it. I just want to hear your voice, I want you to tell me you hate me, I want you to tell me you've moved on and that I'm foolish to even think that you cared, even just a little bit. I feel like this part of my life hasn't ended and it's killing me. Whether it was that late night panic attack thinking I'd made a huge mistake, or me feeling like reaching out to her because we have the silence in common. I can't keep holding onto this and you need to give me a reason not to; not me, you. I don't care who tells me, anyone at this point would be better than no one, but I need to know how you felt those few days. I don't care if it's her, one of your friends, your family, anybody. We have to get a little messed up before we can step up, and people is better than no people. You were one of my people.