Indifference.

I'm sitting here at work now, wishing the time to pass quickly. My mind keeps traveling back to two days ago.

I was in the car, smiling and laughing with my Mum. We were discussing movies and actors. We were stopped at a light. I looked away from her just in time to see him pass by. What suprised me most was that I felt nothing. I didn't care. He could have been a stranger even though I spent more than two years around him. If I would have seen him closer to January, I would have raged. I would have exhausted every ounce of self-control not to hit him. It would have taken every thought of my future not to do anything rash and uncontrolled. I was that angry.

I owe my closest friends (especially Mitch and Neda) everything for listening to me during that time. I vented for hours it seemed and cursed everything that had to do with him. The knife was still in my back and twisted. Hell, even a professor of mine lent me an ear, after he asked why I looked like shit in his class. Haha! He was and still is a great guy.

After a couple days, I decided I couldn't poison myself with hate and anger. It was taking too much energy to endure. I put everything in my journal, my own personal pensieve, and forgot about it willingly.

That was last year. My eyes followed him as he drove by. I remembered everything, but it didn't bother me at all. No disgust rose from throat and my muscles did not tense. I laughed again as Mum started to hum, "David Duchovny, why won't you love me?" Mum isn't very observant (well, I'd have to say most people aren't, too) so she never knew who had just passed or didn't notice my eyes drift along with a certain car. Maybe next time, if there is one, I'd be able to be in the same place and still feel that calm, even if he's standing next to me.