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I probably don’t mean that much to you, and what I say probably doesn’t matter to you. I may just be that familiar stranger you happen to see more often than not. I may just be easy company, or even company that you don’t really care to be around. I probably mean nothing to you, and you’re probably okay with that.

You aren’t supposed to mean this much to me though. At one point, I really must say that you didn’t mean anything to me at all. You too were just some passing face I happened to see often; you were even someone that I dreaded seeing because I was slowly starting to get sick of you. What you said didn’t really matter to me; you were easy company and you were slightly entertaining.

Things turned around that one time, though. You probably didn’t want to seem as vulnerable as you really were, but I saw it because it wasn’t too long ago when I was just as vulnerable as you. I would see you go through the motions, like everything was okay. Everyone around you was walking on broken glass, or tiptoeing around you like a bomb waiting to explode. Everyone was probably waiting for that moment where you just lose it. But you never did. You kept an easy, slightly neutral face. But it was in your eyes: everything, the sadness, the hurt and that slight uncertainty of what the hell to do next. Seeing you that broken – well, it broke me.

All I knew is that I never wanted to see you like that again. Countless times I’ve tried to make the effort to make sure that you were okay, or that things would never be as bad, or that you wouldn’t ever have to go back to that place again. Maybe it didn’t seem like I was making that kind of effort, but I was – in my own weird, awkward way.

It seems like you’re back on your feet, but I’m afraid that you’re about to just make another mistake. I’m afraid that you might just be going back into this hole where there’s no way out, or where people might not be able to get you out. I’m just afraid that sooner or later, I’ll find myself staring at your eyes with that same kind of vulnerability, that kind of emotion that wrenched my guts in a way that I couldn’t even explain.

Trust me, even I don’t know why I’m so emotionally invested. Even I don’t know why I’m upset. I probably don’t mean that much to you, and what I say probably doesn’t matter to you. At the end of the day, people are probably going to read this and they won’t even know it’s you. At the end of the day, I’m still just a face in the crowd, this crowd of people who you acknowledge with a slight nod and a tight-lipped smile. I still probably don’t matter to you.

I just hope that you don’t end up in that place again. I don’t know if it’s a matter of gut feel or even the things people say, but I do worry that it would only hurt you instead of make you happy. You deserve so much more than what you’re looking for, yet you seem to keep your eyes on the ground instead of what’s in front of you. I just want you to know that I’m looking for out you, even if you probably don’t want me sticking around.

Sometimes, I wish it were me instead. But who am I kidding, right?

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