Schrödinger's cat

There were two options.


Either you saw me or you didn't.


I saw your car, and someone was inside it, at the driver's seat. Couldn't really see if there was someone else, but it seemed that way.


If you saw me, I wonder if you missed me. If your whole world convulsed and trembled and was left laying in pieces on the floor as mine was. If your heart was pained with nostalgia like mine. If you remembered all the good times we spent at that same parking lot before or after watching a movie, your arms around my waist or around my arms, making me feel alive.


That's why I wish you had seen me.


The other option is, you didn't see me. And that'd be the best option. Because I didn't want you to see me limping pass your car. I didn't want you to notice that I am getting sicker, that I am deteriorating. I didn't want to feel your pity or your shame, or either your mockery -don't believe you'd be that cruel, but maybe your new girlfriend is-.


I am tempted to send you a text to your cellphone.

I might.. or might not.

Tough things like this Make me Sick.