Crying

He's crying...

I'm crying...

Why?

Why does it have to be so complicated? 

Why can I not let go and just move on? 

Why do I feel so much bitterness and anger, towards myself, towards everything? 

He's crying. He hung up the phone. Who am I to call back and ask "how are you?" When I was the one to make him cry? 

And who is to know, who cares, if I'm crying again or why I cry? Death, loss, love, hope, personal sense of insecurity... Why does it matter? Why do I make such big deals out of every bring?

And what is the most ridiculous thing? Nothing matters. Nothing will matter in a month. Nothing will matter at the end of my life. Nothing matters and nobody will ever remember why two people separated by so much distance in two cities were crying on this very night...

Cruel. Painfully cruel.