It's a cloudy Sunday afternoon. The sun is somewhere, hiding behind the ever mysterious gray sky. I sit in bed, going through bag after bag of various flavors of the same brand of potato chips, stuffing my face with junk, filling my head with music I've never heard before.

Somewhere in the realms of a city almost forgotten, they lay in bed in their fancy hotel room, exchanging stories, his arms snaked around her hour glass shaped waist. They all sport bed hair, as if they just woke up, and they probably just did. In my world, that is just unacceptable, but not in theirs. They can do whatever with whomever, whenever and wherever they want to. There are no boundaries to stop them.

What I want, right at this moment, is to forget how much I want to see him. To forget how he is now a few hundred miles away from me, when a week ago, there was an ocean and some countries separating us. What I want is to forget that he is with her, my very own replacement, reminding me of the song in my head that goes to the tune of I'm not good enough.

I could hop on a bus right now, wearing my heart on my sleeve. He'd probably tell me how long he's waited for me to say these words I've been trying to contain in the confines of my head, but I am afraid that he's even farther out of reach now that he's here. There were words we shouldn't have said that day we were both consumed with anger and frustration. I was full of jealousy, he was full of pride. We never did make it in any of our fights. Maybe, maybe there's a reason we aren't together now.

I've spent so much time pushing thoughts of him out of my mind. Some days, it's easy. I have other things to fill my time. But when I'm alone at night and sleep just wouldn't come, that's when the urge to call him is strongest. That's when I strain to hear his voice, crave the warmth of the comfort that tomorrow, everything will be okay between us. I'm done chasing, surely, I am. I'm done hoping. I'm just not done loving yet.