  Undialed We forget things so easily. Time spent together, chemistry, daily rituals no longer needed, people. So, I don't miss you all that much, and I don't suppose you miss me either. Wait. That previous statement may have been a lie. I do miss you, yet still, I don't call. It is easy to forget things. Out of sight, out of mind.
Or at least out of touch. So we mix and we mingle with our new contacts and pretend that nothing had ever happened between us and that we are merely two people who once shared a few moments, even if they were, and will be, some of the most important moments and steps in our entire lives. And how. There is a large difference between pretending to be what we said we'd be. There is no real explanation for the actions we find ourselves performing. I need you as much as I ever did, but in a very different way. And I believe you still need me to play some role in your life, albeit a much, much different role than I had at one time become so comfortable in playing.
Playing. That's what we were doing, I suppose. Playing with fate and love and eternity and mortality. Playing grown up when really we were only children. Young, and naive. This is the point that was so hard to prove, but only to ourselves. And so I miss you, and you miss me, this we have admitted. And still. The phone remains silent, and also remains undialed. 
