Two days with you.

All day long I refresh the page
Hoping I might see your username
Updating your Twitter, posting on your Blog
(Which, I might add, you haven't done in a considerable while.)

I'm having a bit of a bad day.
It's raining out, the house is cold, I've been ill all day,
And then there's the inescapable fact that I'm alone.
Not literally. I'm just depressingly lonely.

Today you've been updating a bit.
Already, you've done it eight times.
That's almost a record. I don't have a record.
Jesus, I sound like a stalker.

Then it happens again. Your name comes up.
Just the sight of your name gives me butterflies.
I haven't read the update yet,
I just stare at your name.

When, finally, I get around to breaking the suspense,
It says, "Been in a car accident."
My heart plummets through the ground.
You were hit by a bus, but you're "fine."

You're not fine. I know you better than that.
But it's funny, because I don't.
We've never met. Not really. 
Yet, I feel like you're my best friend.

You're not fine. You've had a bad day.
I can tell by your snippy attitude,
and your general grumpiness.
Today has not been fantastic.

You feel bad for not meeting up with your friend
like you were supposed to. And everyone's giving you a hard time.
You feel boxed in. I know that feeling.
You feel lonely. I know that feeling.

My maternal side is freaking out.
You said you're okay, but you're probably not.
That's what my mind is screaming.
And who would be okay after being hit by a bus?

Then this feeling erupts in me.
I want to be there. Right next to you.
We're both having shitty days.
It's a sign. We're meant to be.

I don't want to be sitting here, refreshing your Twitter every 10 seconds.
I want to be there, making sure you're not bleeding,
And telling you it'll be okay, 
Even though your car is totalled and you're probably bruised pretty bad.

It's happened again. An hour later, there's another update.
Your family is mad because you were late getting home.
I know that feeling. I know it well.
It's a helpless feeling, not knowing how that was your fault.

Eventually, I go upstairs. 
I lie in bed, sleepless for hours,
Until I finally pass out.
Luckily, it's a dreamless night.

The next morning, I check Twitter.
Nothing.
Well, you are three hours behind me.
I'll wait.

Three hours later, cue the refresh.
There it is. Your name.
I read the update and laugh.
You have the flu.

You were in a car accident last night.

You're probably bruised and have a nasty cut.
And you're worried about your runny nose.
And I want to be there. To make you feel better.

But I'd never tell you.
I can't ever tell you.
Because I'm scared.
That you'd be scared.


Right, I know this sounds a bit stalker-ish.
But, I really needed to get that off my chest.
<3