This is going to be my December

why is it that you have nothing to say to me? Why? Why is it that when i want you to speak to me the most you ignore me? I have given up on wanting you to love me, and given up on wishing you would too. I still have hope though that you miss me, that you would speak to me...or that you want to, even if you don't.
There are memories that I feel are mine alone, that no one else can recall. Those ones that strike me at times when I want nothing to do with them, and everything comes crashing into my mind and my ear hears the sounds we made and the dialogue replays and i relive it all again. then again. then again. I keep it on repeat, with no reason or knowledge of one, but I do it anyway until the sound of it stops triggering something, or until the next distraction finds me.
I am not desperate nor hung up. I am not lonely nor scared of being so. I am only wishful. For so much that most of it is playful, and entertaining, and i use it to pass the time when I'm waiting to shift into Drive or taking a drag. I can only use it on me, in my head, quietly.
No one needs to know. Why would they? even if they did what would they do...those self questioning hypothetical dialogues and scene setters...they are so frequent that sometimes it feels like the actual ones have merged quite beautifully with the ones imagined, and it becomes perfect, because it becomes exactly what you wanted it to be.
But that's not the way things go.