I moved across from Daisy to stay close to her. Once I had heard that she had moved here I had to be close to her. I could see her and she could see me even if she did not realize it was me. Every night I look out to her. I wish for her to be with me. I wish to get in contact with her. Long Island is only so big, and I am so socially active, I assumed that we would be brought together at some point or another. Moving across the bay from Daisy in a way gave me the feeling that I was with her and still a part of her life. Almost as if I could look out for her across the bay. I felt that if something went wrong, for some reason then I could swoop in and save her. I am utterly obsessed with the idea of not only Daisy but, of being reunited with Daisy. I needed to be around her. I used to read the with an infatuation for the hopes of Daisy's name surfacing in the paper. Which it often did since she loved parties, and even more she loved Chicago. That city loved her. Everything I do is for Daisy. She is the one that got away and the one that I have determined myself to get back. I regret leaving her for the war but the war is what brought me to her.
It had been years since the last time had seen Daisy. To be exact five in November. I was extremely nervous, so much that I continually walked around Nick’s house. When her car pulled in I almost walked out, it took me a lot to tell Nick that I was sorry and go back home. But I knew that would be cowardly, and I had to find out what could happen. What if she was mad at me for coming back? What if even though she might not be mad at me, what if things are not the same as they were when we were younger in Louisville? I shouldn’t have done this. I should have left her alone. I should have let her continue her life the way it was. I just really wanted her to see that I was still around. That if she ever wanted me in her life again or ever needed me for any reason that I was not far that she could get in touch with me. That I am reachable. I would love for her to want me again. To remember what we had and could have been. I don’t want her to forget about me. Our conversation has been awkwar...
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