1/14/2026 I leave him ajar

    I use a teacup from the thrift store for watercolor painting. I was originally going to break it with a hammer and use the shards to make a necklace, but that never happened, so now it's my watercolor cup. 

    I told you about the watercolor cup once, and, unless I was mistaken, you found it very endearing. I think a lot about how you found many things endearing.

    I am unable to look at pictures of you. Not because doing so makes me unbearably sad, but because doing so doesn't make me sad at all. It’s as if your face registers like the face of a stranger.

    I remember one time you told me that I pitied myself too much for the things I perceived as slights from other people. I was extremely upset and didn't talk to you for the rest of the day. Later, you wrote me a long-winded apology, careful and exhaustive, detailing how you shouldn't have said it and how sorry you were. Once I had finished reading, I realized how completely stupid I am.

    Nowadays, there is very little I remember about you, though there are a lot of things I know about you. Do you understand that I just don’t make time for you anymore?