I hate how Facebook keeps changing the faces of "your friends" so you're always looking at different faces picked from the multitude of people that you call "friends" but possibly fit better under some remote column titled "acquaintances" or "people I must've only friended when I was shit face and who are you again?". The real point though, is that with this constant rotation of faces, I somehow always end up seeing faces of my blast from the past. Be it the boy who got away or the boy who made me wonder what I was thinking, there's an unfamiliar ache or cringe when I return to view those pictures, and inevitably, those memories.

Some of them were sweet, some were sour, but most of them were supposedly "stake in the heart" dead. Yet somehow, that picture of your familiar gaze managed to revive memories I had long since imagined to be dead. It doesn't mean I love you, it doesn't mean I still feel for you. The loathing and general distaste that I hold for you hasn't changed in the least. I still wish I could wrench your spine from your body and possibly yank your entrails from your body and use them for bungee jumping, but BUT in that moment that I see the pictures again, the feel, smell and sound of you comes rushing back. And I suppose I remember how I became a blubbering idiot for you.

Having gone through everything and experiencing so much since we've parted, I look back at the person you were then and wonder how I could have missed the signs. You must have held my hands so tight and the back that I hugged was so broad and encompassing that I could not imagine being any place else. When you cupped my face in your hands, I felt such warmth I believed that only someone with a tender heart could possess. But now, now I see that your gaze was too menacing, your hug too stifling, everything about you was something I should avoid. And everything that I am avoiding.

And still, I'm so curious. What are you like today?

I wanted to say something profound, but when nothing came out, I realized maybe that silence had spoken waves of emotions I could not convey - far deeper, far more meaningful than anything I could say.