Why?

Things seemed so... normal, for a while. So normal, I didn't know how to react nor return.

My hair was stroked and my arm was touched.
I wanted to get out of the house but I was not left alone.
We had dinner at our usual favorite.
We almost got me a new phone just so I could use it in the US.
We almost got me trying on some clothes so he could get them cheaper in Oz.
We strolled, and we talked.
We talked like we used to, except, perhaps, the fear of believing was coming from me.
Believing that all was real.

I was so happy for a while. For just that while, when everything seemed to be alright. But I knew, we both knew, they aren't.

I had to ask the question: why the new phone?

I just wanted to be sure, I was reading the signs right. I don't want to be misled, by my own foolishness and my own longing for things to be ok and by my own blindness, again.

I could've just shut up, and let the good things flow from last night. But I didn't. I killed myself again.