The best place to hide is inside your head.

There are times when you float into my thoughts without me really realising it. I realise I am thinking about you only after I have already thought about you, and am about to have an imaginary conversation with you.

It’s like it is natural for me to think about you, and wonder what you would think of a certain piece of prose or a snatch of lyrics.

I forget that you are gone. That it doesn’t matter to you what it is that I conclude after having observed something. That my opinion is not something that you would value anymore.

But when the realisation dawns, it feels like a hundred knives stabbing me at once. Like a thousand saws sawing away a limb. Like a million rats, gnawing away at my toes.

And then you call. And we talk. And it feels like nothing ever happened.

Did it? Ever happen? Did we ever kiss? Did we ever lie down next to each other, holding hands, wondering who it would look like if we ever made a baby?

There are times when I wonder if all that I believe happened actually happened, or if it is just an imaginary tale that I invented inside my head.

There are times when I wonder if I am Alice.