-Please understand that there will be a full range of thoughts and emotions here, from light to dark, expressing my hope, my pain, my anger, my memories…  It makes me happy that you thought of me and sent me a quick note.  What I really meant, and I’m sure you understand, is that after two weeks the occasional text from you isn’t substantial enough.  I know, I’m pushing my luck, but I’m all-in on this one, so I’ll push it as far as I respectfully can.

-I’m sitting on the sofa watching Forrest Gump with my right arm outstretched, and for a moment had what must have been a flashback of you underneath it, snuggling, getting comfy so you can sleep through the rest of the movie.  I felt you.

-The first thing to go is the desperation.  The urgent feeling of needing to see you.  It is waning.  I think it has to do with your lack of communication.  It speaks as loudly as your voice.  An intoxicated text just doesn’t really say anything substantial.

-I’m not inspired to write anything today.  I’m glad you felt nostalgic and emboldened by the champagne enough to text me yesterday.  It’s always nice to hear from you, especially randomly.  You were painting your living room and drinking champagne.  A nice image.  It once again makes me wonder how and why you stick with him and further build your nest when you think of me while doing those things.  Is it that you wish you were doing them with me now, or in another life, or that perhaps we might share this in the future?   Because if the message is solely nostalgic, as nice as that is, I would really appreciate you not sending it.