Some time has passed since I saw you at the subway station. Ever since that day, for some unknown reason, my mind has come up with this false bit of hope that thinks you will eventually send a message.

It thinks that seeing me sparked up the same kind of internal reaction I had when I saw you and that, now, all your memories of us have come flooding back and you have realized how foolish you have been to let me go a second time.

But then I tell myself I'm just being silly. You and I are part of the past; now, the only thing remaining is the privilege we have of reminiscing on something special left behind.

But it can't be over. Things like that don't just end. Because if they did, then why do my fingers burn with temptation at wanting to just send one single message your way?

Please let me see that I wasn't that unimportant to you. That you, too, are incredibly tempted to type one single 'hello' and hit the send button. Tell me I'm not the only one craving one more conversation like the ones we used to have.

But oh, that would be so dangerous. One more conversation would be like trying heroin just one more time, just to feel that high again, and before you know it, it gets worse. You crave it more and more, and when it's gone, withdrawal effects hit you harder than before. And your body begins to shake, hot tears stream down your cheeks, and then you begin going insane because you long for more of that feeling.

You're my drug. I know you're bad for me, and I know I'm better off without you, but goodness, I'm addicted. Addicted to the feelings, the laughs, the conversations, your eyes, and your voice. All of it so dangerously intoxicating and yet, I can't help but miss it.

But you don't really miss me. Or maybe you do and you just can't bring yourself to swallow your pride—just like myself. Either way, here I am, doubting if you will ever want to speak to me again. Wondering if you really desire speaking to me one more time, or if that coincidental encounter was simply a small nice yet, irrelevant moment for you. That I slipped away from your mind just as fast as we crossed paths that afternoon.