Send.

I didn't sleep last night. I couldn't.
I sat until 3 a.m. in front of my computer, paralyzed. My finger was poised over the mouse for hours; on the screen, the cursor hovered on the "Send" button of a fully-typed message, and next to that, a picture of Liz smiled at me.
I was so tempted to send that message, to tell her all that had happened in the past eight months and all that I had felt, to let her know that after all this time I simply wished her happiness and hoped that she would have a merry Christmas.
But I would look at that picture again and my mind would start racing. She's moved on; she's with Ed now; she's happy. She doesn't need an abrupt reminder like this, of how her last relationship went bad. Images and memories were playing behind my eyelids whenever I blinked. Among these was the familiar shadow of February twelfth: a ghost that has visited me far too often -- me, leaning against a bookcase in Barnes & Noble, hanging my head, fighting my own choking sobs until my lungs hurt; her hand on my arm, her eyes trying to bring mine up from the floor; those words...
"I'm not saying it's completely over. We could be together, but...not right now. Neither of us can do this right now."
I let out a bitter chuckle.
"What?"
"It's just that...in every story I've heard --"
"They don’t get back together?"
"Yeah."
The pause. "We're not every story."

I was just so tired of being the same old story. I was tired of knowing that we hadn't even managed a simple friendship after she left. I was tired of looking back and finding only bitterness and resentment after that, too, fell apart. I just wanted so badly to click "Send" and have that message shatter it all -- one last peaceful letter, a hello and a goodbye to take the place of normal, post-breakup coldness and distance.
But I looked at that picture. I heard her voice, her laugh, for the first time since reality sank in, eight months ago; I saw her familiar gestures and expressions.
And at three o'clock in the morning, I decided that she was best left alone. I realized that the only way for me to really move on was to move on, and stop agonizing over that fucking "Send" button. I moved the cursor and closed the window. My last feeling was of something in me shrinking away and sputtering out like a candle.
This loneliness is getting to me.