I remember swinging the door and stepping out to Leon leaning against the wall opposite. While walking along the corridor of the "alley" Kenneth previously said the toilets would be at, I exclaimed, do you know I nearly sprained my ankle?! I used the squat cubicle and when I was done I missed a step. I ended up sitting there rotating and chanting "oh please, not today", to which the friend nodded too fervently and chuckled too loudly. Me too, me too!, he near-shouted.
Then we stopped in subconscious unison in front of a mirror, the curvy, circular kind held up against the part where two adjacent walls meet, and took reflective photographs with my phone shamelessly. After the passing of a couple people and two dark photographs, he stood there still ruffling through the surface of his waxed hair. This is such a great night- I heard him emphasize on the "great" and for some reason it warmed me- totally makes up for all the shit school is. It came in a murmur like his words always do, but slightly less audible, almost like he never meant to express the thought in fear of sounding too corny. Also Leon isn't usually that brazen in regards to public displays of narcissism with so little a number around, so he must be intoxicated just about right then. The beauty of beer is such: it heightens one's emotions in a degree enough for honest conversation, and I like it so much.
When we were seated the topic of you came up of course. Kamini said, I didn't like you very much when you were with him, to which Kenneth added, yeah, you always seemed kinda "off". Yet I replied, but I just liked him so so much, and I was adamant that somewhere somehow, you did too.
Then yesterday, you hurt me more than I thought you were capable of. You said you were sorry, but how many times are you going to say that in the course of me knowing you? I told you, you don't know about me do you, hoping, hoping that for once after so many years that you will get it, get that I love you and I want you well but you could only litter many on me and then apologize in your many charming ways, believing that those would rub what you said off my heart yet another time. Not this time; I won't let myself.
I tried again to get through to you, telling you, I wasn't sad about the break-up but I'm sad now. How dare you reply to me like it was no matter, as if I was overreacting. But you know me don't you? and you apologized again- for what?
All these years I've been subconsciously morphing myself into someone from you. You have affected me in ways beyond words can define. But if you ever know, oh if you ever, for a second, cared about this omnipresent soul here! what else can I hear from your sincerity other than the sickening word which overtime, was ripped off of its value? I'm so tired. I don't know you. I don't feel like I ever did. How can I when you are everchanging? I don't know your favourite food, nor your favourite song, yet I tell people stories about you- lovely ones- and like me, they fall in love with you, the person I saw you as. But now of all I'm only certain that you can't be around negativity, and that every single fucking time you're hurt, I'm hurt too, because you are, and because you make me, like I'm your second choice, a girlfriend on demand you can never get rid of just in case you get too lonely. And I know that no matter how much I try, you'll always gravitate me back to you with just one fucking word.
I love you, Dex. But I just don't like you anymore.
The ball will always be in your court. Why can't you just go if you want to.
<3
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