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Remnants from Memory of Old

6/28/2015

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Well, I most certainly did not expect to hear from you all of a sudden. Well, actually, let me rephrase. I most certainly did not expect your name to come up. Those words to be mouthed by someone other than me. Specially when I haven't really had an opportunity nor the need to mouth those words for a long while. But as always, I overthink things, so I figured, there must be a reason why this person decided to inform me about you.

Perhaps it was a warning. Perhaps it was a show of care from this person, a need to express that they care about my well-being. But what do I know, I know nothing. Maybe they wanted to see how I'd react. Or you told them to ask me about you. I don't know. Like I said, I overthink things.


I am starting to realize perhaps this town is just too small. I thought at first it would be an improvement from where I used to live, but perhaps I was wrong or over-exaggerated the thought when I felt moving here would provide me with a much larger area to explore and get lost in. Again, what do I know. I overthink things quite a lot.


Perhaps it was just a casual conversation starter. Perhaps this person does not realize that I much rather not hear about you. Not because I hate you. Not because I wish you wrong. No. I don't feel hate towards you. I forgave you long ago. Whatever you might have heard about me and my thoughts about you, probably was an exaggeration, a miscommunication, or perhaps even just my anger talking. But thing is, I much rather not hear about you, listen to rumors or small talk about you because frankly, I believe our splitting up was meant to be from the very beginning. It was a lesson to be taught, a lesson to be learned. Not hearing from you only adds to the lesson, adds to the fact that I've moved on. A chapter closed.

Why other people insist on bringing you up is beyond me.

But then again, I always felt like my work environment was a bit like high school.

Some photographs can't seem to just burn away.

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    Writer/Artist

    My name is Francisco, you can call me Zisco.

    Endings are hard, but in reality, nothing ever ends, does it?

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