I hate having such conversations with you.
The situation's so freaking similiar.
Telling those things to you is like a reminder of what I should tell myself.
Freak.
Move on.
So what if she knows.
So what if YOU knew.
Life will be back to normal.
Things will be the same.
Logic over emotions.
Whatever's going to happen a few months from now will still happen.
And you know what. You just might be invited to witness.
SO WHY BOTHER TELLING HER?
Yes, why bother telling?
Reassuring you is like reassuring myself.
Of the fact that whatever that's going to happen, will happen.
And we're both freaking sure about that.

It's so weird you're showing me what I've already read two years ago.
Telling me things I've guessed.
Feeling the same way I feel.
Keeping track like how I do.
Our sources of inspirations.
Just that the protaganists of each stories are switched.
But how can I ever tell you that I already knew almost everything.
This is really one time I don't want to understand how you feel.

I suddenly fear this closeness that we share.
Really.
I just can't answer some of the questions that you ask.
What am I to say?

Yes.
I should be used to it all already.
I need to be.
I know what your answer is.
And I somehow know what's my answer too.

You know. It's going to be different from yours this time round.