the intimacy of never talking again - by maisa
I read it this morning, and it stuck with me all day. I don’t know why, but I’d blame it on the fact that it happened to be the best day for it, an estranged person’s birthday.
There’s a sick kind of closeness in silence. Why does it feel more intimate to never speak to someone again than to text them “Happy Birthday!”? Someone I used to know is a year older today. I know that not because we still talk (God no), but because my brain is a haunted archive of useless information about men who always end up in relationships the second they’re done picking through the folds of my brain and the crevices of my body.
This person and I are estranged for reasons beyond my control. And don’t go thinking I like them, miss them, or even think of them often… I don’t. I really don’t. But I feel close to them. So close. Closer than I do to that one ex who’d come up to me in public with that awkward, yet familiar half-smile, like he just saw a ghost he once made out with. Or closer than to the people I grew up with and naturally grew apart from, those who knew me best and whom I’ve parted with amicably. It’s strange. This person and I ended on bad terms. So bad, in fact, that I can’t even pinpoint where it all went wrong. But somehow, I still feel more connected to them than anyone else.
I feel closer to them now that I don’t have any social media to stalk, friends in common to interrogate, or micro-acts to pick up on. I feel as if no one in my life is closer to me than them. At least, not right now. The act of letting go, erasing, and never speaking to someone again brings you together in ways I have a hard time putting into words.
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