Let it die and get out of my mind
We don’t see eye to eye
Or hear ear to ear
Don’t you wish that we could forget that kiss
And see this for what it is
That we’re not in love
The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn’t the ending so much as the start

I just got home from the Feist concert that I took my mom too for her birthday. I’m never really sure how to explain my mom and my relationship- strained at times, I guess- but we had a great bonding time at the concert. I made her a CD of Feist’s music a few months ago, and it was nice getting into the city with her alone for the evening.

During the intermission, my mom brought up Pete. I forget exactly how he was brought up. I think I mentioned something about how I was going out with T again this week, and she asked about when I was going to see Pete again. I shook my head and said, “I’m not”. “You always say that,” she countered, “but you always see him again.” My mom and I don’t have the relationship where we discuss the intricate workings of my (non) love life, so I didn’t answer. I’m not going to tell her that he said “we’re not going to date, I’m never going to come and see you, but you can come up here” to me. It was too embarrassing, made me too miserable to think about.

My mom decided to continue, saying that she thought we’d work it out. “He always comes back around,” she said. Not this time, I thought, even though I nodded. She probably saw this relationship- if I can call it that- the same way I did. In one of our last fights, I told Pete that I know him to well for this. Looking back, I know I’m wrong. I have no fucking clue who he is, what he’s thinking, what he wants. I know the image he showed me, the person I wanted to be dating. I know the idea of him that was stuck in my head.

My mind was still reeling- I’d been ignoring messages from T all night, always unsure over him whenever the subject of Pete comes along. Feist sang that song and I guess it’s always hit home for me. Time to let it die, right?

As my mom and I waited for our ride I sent a message to T: “Drinks, Thursday night.” I guess he’d been waiting for an answer, as he wrote, “Cannot wait to see you again.” So a new start?

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