Amorphous Literary Construction

I found this on my computer today. It's a bit strange. It's neither a story nor a poem, but kind of a hybrid of both. I'm not sure what it is. But I kind of liked it.

"I was thinking about one of our future conversations. We always have these in my head, when we haven’t spoken in over a year. This time we were talking about the cultural differences. You remarked on my accent (this you really did, when you first met me, when you first went to bed with me and I was so nervous I would talk incessantly while you kissed my neck, my whole body, and you said my accent was sexy). You asked me questions about the heat, I made quick calculations of degrees from Celsius into Fahrenheit, and wondered if 47 C would really be over 100 F. I asked you questions about thanksgiving (was it really like the movies and TV shows made it out to be?). And why thanksgiving? Ah, I remember, I was going to be finishing the semester around that time, and you invited me to spend thanksgiving with your family. I wondered, in a window of sanity during which I remembered you were just an extra pillow lying next to me, if you would have wanted me there, with your family for thanksgiving. And I thought of all the times you asked me how I was, or offered to fly to Europe to see me. If I had once said how much I missed you would you have come? Was it a total joke? Or a thinly veiled offer? And I felt the worst pain of regret wash through my veins, mixed in with my blood. I felt the tears in my eyes. So I closed my eyes, knowing that despite the dark I would not sleep and, in a moment of zen, peace or maturity, I held my breath until the tears passed. I knew that if I let that first tear roll past my lashes, out the corner of my eye, an entire world of pain would fall on me, and I wouldn’t breathe, or move, or do anything by cry for the next hour at least. And the pain of that moment of sanity would be ecstasy compared with the wave of pain that followed the first tear. So I bit my lip, and waited. "