Title: I Hope You Had the Time of Your Life
Author: Alex. Who? Alex.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Mine.
Summary: We were in love, and I didn't even know who she was.
Notes: My first femmeslash attempt. An edited version of a real person
slash I wrote, where the identities of the celebrities and any identifying
facts were removed.

It's not a question
But a lesson learned in time
It's something unpredictable
But in the end is right
I hope you had the time of your life

- Green Day, "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)"


We don't speak anymore.

I'd like to say that I don't really care, but deep down inside, I do.

I wanted her. And at the same time, I wanted to BE her. I wanted
her; I wanted everything.

I suspect that she was not as into our relationship as I was. It
always felt like she was witholding a part herself from me, and I
couldn't quite reach it.

We were in love, and I didn't even know who she was. She was like a
hummingbird, flitting from person to person like they were flowers.
For her, life always moved at 100 mph, and I was just struggling to
keep up pace.

But I didn't mind. I never really minded. I *enjoyed* chasing after
her. It kept my life interesting.

I suppose the best thing I could say about her is that our life
together was never boring. With her, something was always happening.

I loved her. In fact, I think I still do.

But we've both moved on. She has a faithful string of male suitors
knocking down her door, and I try not to let it bother me. I try not
to think about it, but it's so hard.

I just try to focus myself on other things.

Beautiful and incomparable, she left the biggest impact on me more than
any one person or event in my life. I learned how to love because of
her, and I don't regret our brief relationship.

I've finally moved on. Well, I'd like to *think* I've moved on.

He is kind and attentive, like a doting brother, I suppose. He
caters to my every request, and makes sure I'm never lacking
anything. I think he senses that big emptiness in me where she once

He never asks questions, never presses me for answers about my life
with her and I am grateful to him for that.

We don't speak anymore.

Sure, we chat occasionally on the phone, or send the rare e-mail, but we don't really speak.

It's probably better if we don't. I'd probably wind up saying something I'd
grow to one day regret.

I miss her. Not a day goes by that I don't think about her in some
way. I miss her eyes, her almond-shaped eyes. The molten gold
cascading down her back. I remember how she liked me to twist my
hands in her hair and draw her lips to mine. She always liked me to
be a little rough with her, like she had some desire to be punished.

I don't think I will ever escape her.

This is my prison.


the end.