You're a mystery to me, then and still.
I remember you, but I don't know you. Our interactions were few, my memories of you even less.
You were meant to be an important part in my life. It was what you chose to be. But that didn't translate. I was alone, without you being by my side or having my back.
The space you occupied you didn't share. Why? Did you just want to remain anonymous? Maybe revealing would have been too painful. Remaining secluded in your own private world where you felt safe was better for you.
I wanted to know you. But somehow I failed. No. You failed me.
I only got to see the outside you presented to the world. Was there more going on or really nothing at all? I wouldn't know. You didn't share yourself with me. I should have been one of the most important people to do that with. Didn't you like me or did you just not know how?
So many questions...
Did you achieve your goals? Were you satisfied with your life at all and especially at the end? I didn't know then or now. You were so quiet and not revealing of yourself.
Years you were in my life, and I didn't know you. Now you're dead to me.
There's no hope of ever knowing the real you now.
Such a waste of precious moments that were shared with you. They could have been spent on other people who wanted to foist their humanity into my space willingly and with good intention.
You don't feel like a loss because I never had you... really, ever.