It Doesn’t matter that you have met someone new. It is of no importance that I have not. It doesn’t matter what she thinks of me, what you think of her. It doesn’t matter what you say about me. She is 17 years younger than me. That doesn’t matter either. It doesn’t matter that one day you may start a family of your own. It doesn’t matter that you spend money taking her places and that you didn’t do that for me. It doesn’t matter that right now the 4 of you meeting today. That you are playing football on the park in the sun together.
It doesn’t matter. Not really.
So why do all these thoughts feel like they have been written on a post-it note, and screwed up and put down my throat. Lodged halfway down, dry and spiked.