I did all I could. I slept for days in hopes of never waking up. I buried myself in work on the off-chance that my mind would grow numb enough to forget her. My roommate was worried that I listened constantly to The Cure and never left my room.

That was a long time ago. I've moved on, or so I tell myself. The animosity has faded, and we've led cordial lives. Sometimes I think that it never happened.

I didn't think it mattered anymore until recently. I was recently at my current favoured club, hanging out with friends, enjoying new music, and fighting off the urge to sleep. There was The Pogues, Covenant, De/Vision. There was also Peter Murphy, and that's when it struck me. Looking over the dance floor, I saw her again, dancing with her boyfriend of many years. He and I are friends now, and honestly, it's hard to imagine them as separate. But just for a moment, I thought: That was almost me.

I've never felt so ill in my life.