Before I could even log-in to this blog...

I had to type your name because it's still in my 17-character password. I never found time to change it. Maybe I'm just lazy. Or maybe in the subconscious, I am keeping it as a metaphor that you'll always be part of my past. No matter how I abhor that.

I read on Facebook:

"Someone popped a question...and someone said yes. Congratulations ___ & ___!"

I wonder what could be the question, to which you replied with a yes.

"Are you a flirt?"
"Are you self-absorbed?"
"Are you a whore?"

So yes, you are getting married. And what I hate about this point in time...is the feeling, that as our small world celebrates with both of you, it is watching me too.

And I must admit that it is still painful. A painful a betrayal.

Like an old scar sliced open.