Imaginary diary

20.09.2018

   Dear friend,

   I am writing you today as something unexpected happened... I was at work, bored and uninterested until a colleague approached me with one of those "show me how to" questions. He looked at my screen and there was me and you in one of those million photos we have taken together. I was going through them, when I stopped in this particular one. It showed nothing more than a lady and man enjoying some moments together, but our casualty could easily give away we have spent some nights sharing the same bed. With the help of one's imagination they could even assume we have had something more behind the scenes...

   So, as expected, he asked me who you were and indifferently I answered him "an ex". You know how it goes... they never stop at asking only one question, that's why he came up with "and where is he now?". He got my effortless answer "he is dead".

  You can imagine he was in shock. But I wasn't. He tried mumbling he is sorry and I helped him out of his speehlespe state by asking him about the project. Dear friend, I am not writing you about the project. These are stuff I am handling well and they can take care of themselves in a matter of time. I am writing you about the death I faked, as I am not able to process the fact of our break up.

   I tried getting over you. I have tried moving on. I even wasted myself in the process of deleting your existence from my mind... Eventually, I have even killed you. I have beaten you up a million times in my mind. So many times that consequently your body gave up. But your memory not.

   I am writing you this letter not to express my deepest condolences for this sudden, though expected, death but to let you know i am becoming dangerous. I am wondering if your memory will ever give up and fade away. Can you please do something about it?

   Dear friend (not anymore), I have some bad news for you: you are no longer alive.

  Yours sincerely and faithful to your memory,

Me and myself.