choking on endless red strings

I've got a girl on my mind, not in a whole way, not in a good way. She's all screwed up and washed out and impossibly fiery and probably about to crack like a fucking egg on the skillet. She just ran out on my best friend and disappeared off to some unknown locale, some secret geek haven where the moniters glow all night long like neon tubing pushing some desolate watering hole. I don't have a lot to connect me to this girl now, just a note and some vague promise of contact, a weak signal in a raging storm. We've had such talks, that girl and I. We made promises we had no way of keeping, but that wasn't how it was then. Then it made sense, then it stuck. Will I see her again, will her promise of contact hold true? It's always so long before I see her again, each time we separate. Maybe this time We'll miss each other, go our different ways to far-off cities and live crazy lives, minds wiped clean of any memory of that person they knew back at the bridge.

I separate from so many people, so many hasty and heartless goodbyes sputtered out in a witless rush. It never gets any easier to deal with, only less surprising in the pain it brings. My bonds with people are never weak, and it's always hard.
So now I'm thinking about why I always move. How cold I am, leaving so many behind.
Now it's the bonds that form and their meaning.

I need to sleep.