Remember that one time I broke into your laptop while you were sleeping just to get your version of StickyNotes because it looked cooler? Hmm you probably didn’t even know, so don’t answer that. Anyway, don’t worry I didn’t do anything else.. Except try to open your Word documents, which to my dismay were password-protected (ugh) Your laptop password was easy enough, given how at the time you hadn’t yet changed it since the last time you lent your laptop to me at that cafe in the mall. But you were sleeping when I pried it open, and to be honest I was more interested in lying down beside you than seeing anything in your laptop (though that would have been interesting, too). While there had been quite a few times that we lay beside each other and sometimes fell asleep next to each other, I never found out if any of it meant anything. I had loved you back then, I did; very much so. And it drove me insane how close we were to each other—living in the same space, eating the same food, sometimes even sleeping in the same bed—but how nothing everything in between us was. Nowadays I still see you around, but it’s not the same anymore. After having lived together for a semester (it was our first semester in college, all of us in that house) and coming to a somewhat deaed end, we had already known each other’s demons when we parted ways, and I guess that served us all for the better. Now you still talk to me, in your trademark chummy way, but I don’t really feel anything anymore, except for a weird longing for the knowledge of the goings-on in that parallel universe where the two of us lay in bed, tangled up in each other’s arms and breaths, dreams. I’m still using the StickyNotes version I stole from you in your sleep, though.

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