She never fails to send a hello every single day, with or without a response from a lazier me. And I continue on deluding myself it's over. That we've moved on. That I've moved on. But there's always that hello, and suddenly, we go back to that realisation it's far from finished. That there's still a lingering scent of hope. And I push it far away knowing that the pain is one inch closer once more. I expected too much from the beginning, and now it's too much for me to manage. There is that cacophonous ringing in my head telling me things I would not have thought about. It tells me nice things, cheesy and so unlike me, and to share them to someone. There she is, waiting for me to say hi in return.
The hardest part is yet to come.