Untitled #7

There's a girl who passes me in the hallway every day. She nods at me. I nod back. We continue on with our business.

Fleeting human contact.

She seems to know me, and every time she nods, I wrack my brain, but I can't seem to remember. Oh God, who is she?

I can't seem to keep everything straight. I don't know whom I've decided to like or to hate.
And I'm just waiting for the day when someone will slap me or shake me and tell me that it's not real. That it's understandable to forget.

But it never happens. The day never comes. I forget which habits I was supposed to break or to show.

The girl seems to like me, but I don't know. I can't relate to her. I'd like to get to know her, but Jesus, all the time it takes.
And maybe that one day will come when she'll slap me and say "Hey fucker, who are you?"

And I won't know the answer.
So until then, I'll just smile and nod and pretend like I know.