Over is close

I know I fucked this part up.

The end.










But he fucked up the start.

Even cuts I procured decades ago are still remembered by faint raised skin.

It's exhausting to know the only reason it's failing is because I can't forget. Because I'm human, very morosely human, and "forgive and forget" is just a happy press quote.

I just can't stop seeing them dancing, Molly coursing through their veins, smiling, laughing, wondering if the other is going to make a move.
Flirting.
But so he says, he's never cheated... on me, not physically, at least. Should this be worse? I don't think even the scientists know the answer, but I should research that some. I do know they say we're always thinking things are worse than they really are. Likewise we're always thinking things are better than they really are too.

She's ugly. She really is. Not physically, but here we are again debating that.
I can see it in the way she carries herself... (Look what he's done; I'm being abrasively mean.) the way she says hello, the way she giggles and peers, the way she drinks, like a god-damn awful fish, by the end of the night cackling so everyone has to cringe -- except the flock of staggering foul that follow each other so they can prove the way they are is respectable -- flopping her tits on the bar, her pony-tailed hair askew to one side, trying to get the attention of anyone willing to give it and later claw at her leggings and have terrible sex so she can rep "YOLO" the next day.

He knows it's over. That's why for the first time in 5 months he's laying down before me, calling to me in an abnormal whiny voice to come to bed.

He's been superb the past few days. Maybe I finally have him but I hardly want him... (Remember little flippant girl, this has been a recurring problem in this life full of rejection and freedom.)

I'VE BEEN THERE! I'VE BEEN THERE!

He comes into the clouded kitchen. I don't want him walking through the clouds in the kitchen. I want him to stay in the bedroom... in bed... and think about how "done" became a part of our contingency.

Rejection and freedom

I don't remember how the fight started. And today it doesn't matter besides that it was him who made me this way... and it was one of the last.

I wonder if I'll look back a month or two after my clothes are escaping the crowded space they used to live for less congestion on the other side and different men who'd be sexier if they didn't speak find a home in my bed, and think about this moment...

sitting in the dark, neurons zipping around my head, knocking into my skull, on the verge of exploding in a gooey mess out the left side matting my hair as if I had held a gun to the right side and pulled the trigger. I kept hearing the Avett Brothers swoon, "If you're loved by someone, you'll never reject it."

But they're wrong. Sometimes this love must be denied.

Whether it's for my sanity or... well I guess it's just my sanity.

He had just told me he loved me and wanted to be good to me and was sorry and hurt and messed up and changed.

I asked him to be left alone for a minute. He appeased.

I grabbed my phone, slid my finger across the screen, tapped the vintage-looking camera icon -- all without much thought -- and felt sick with regret.

There was the word.

"Free."

Silhouetted birds flying above it.

I didn't double tap. I didn't like it.

And it was the hardest decision I've had to make to date. Because I love...

And I don't believe in signs but...

Underestimation

I never enjoyed the beach. I'm more of a mountain girl.
But I met you on the beach and fell in love.
Never again will I underestimate the power of physical attraction.

I never liked the unaware and inattentive. I am more of an intellectual.
But you listened intently and told me you loved me.
Never again will I underestimate the power of lies.

I've never been into a prep. I am more of a black eyeliner and blood from self-inflicted wounds kinda girl.
But you said you loved my heartache while you were fucking me.
Never again will I underestimate the power of pain.

I never liked Spanish men. I am more of a Caucasian lover.
But I looked into those big brown eyes and told you I loved you over fried plantains.
Never again will I underestimate the power of change.

I have never been fond of jealousy. I am more an open-minded, loose-lipped kinda girl.
But you told me they didn't love me.
Never again will I underestimate the power of loneliness.

I never believed in the devil. I put more stake in science.
But you promised love and showed me hate.
Never again will I underestimate the power of evil.