He walked up, nonchalant, the excitement of his adventure etched on his face, pretendingly casual. We swarmed around him, throwing questions like sharp stones. He worshipped the sting.
Smiling, he explained how his friend took his own fall. The news that all he got was a slap on the wrists was received with raucous laughter; the perfect punchline. It really wasn't my fault, he said. He had his own stuff on him. I hid my lighter in my jeans. They never even knew.
We circled him like sharks in a brief but fatal frenzy, swimming, circling; all at once it was over. We dissipated into the air, doors banging behind us as the classroom swallowed us up.
We walked to class, his arm thrown around me lankily. I glared idly. He had worried me. No big deal, he laughed. It's no big deal.
He spent the next hour convincing me of such. I had long since believed him, but I was entranced by the way his eyes read my words and the way his spiky writing stalked across the page to tell me silently of his love.
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I owe you an apology.
ReplyDeleteI've been doing a lot of thinking over the past two days, a lot of preparation for what it would be like to not speak to you ever again. Just now I had mahself a good ol'-fashioned epiphany.
You were right about me being delusional. Really. I pulled apart the clusterfuck that is my mind and I came to terms with the fact. I really wanted to be with you, that part is true, but I think it wasn't love so much as it was a desire to have someone similar to me. I wanted someone who was as good for me as you are because those types are hard to find, for me. A lot of what I said and did were dramatics, including ranting and raving at you. It was all failed trickery, attempting you to cave in.
I can't apologize enough for that.
I'm not asking you to speak to me again. I know you are probably more than through with my sorry ass. I just wanted it to be known that you didn't do anything wrong, by my book. Not anymore.