she had called me late last night or early this morning. whatever you wanna call it. it was around three am. she didn't say much except the super awkward and short "hi." i always loved her "hi's". i never say hi to anyone because i always felt my hi's belonged to her. i said "hi" back and we had a brief conversation that involved her asking me if i could go over to her place tomorrow. i should have said no, but i said yes. no questions asked, just yes, like an idiot like always. i felt stupid for giving in so quickly and i couldn't sleep the rest of the night. i was anxious and excited all at the same time, but my excitement was making my heart race and it wasn't letting me sleep. i listened to st. vincent all night. we never agreed on a time for me to come over so i wasn't sure as to what to do. plus, it was so late that night that i wasn't sure if we did agree on a time and i just didn't remember. i was also getting rashes on my body because i thought maybe she had dialed the wrong number and she was drunk and thought she was talking to someone else and not me. i always questioned myself when she texted me or called me because it was surreal to me. i always thought it was some mistake made by her. i was nervous as to if i should text her asking her about her phone call and what time i should come over. i also didn't want to pressure her. but mostly, i didn't want to sound desperate. but i was. i was dying to see her, for whatever reason, always. the day was going by slowly. it felt almost like a boring day at work... just... slow. i finally gathered up enough courage to text her and ask her. she took an hour to reply and only wrote "at 7". i do all i need to do that day which is really not much, take a shower, get ready, and head out. i'm always early so i was by her place at around 6:30 but didn't text her until 7:05 letting her know i was around the corner. all i got was "okay." i never know what to make of these texts. i did, however, know that it was gonna be one of those nights that make me get blisters on my tongue because our blood pressures rise. i text her to let her know i'm outside and she comes and opens the door. she's wearing a fucking dress, she is bare legged, and barefoot, and all i can i think to myself is "god, help me." "hi" she says and gives me one of those hugs i don't like. i loved her hugs before. the ones when we were seeing eachother. those were amazing hugs. these aren't bad but not the same. probably because there aren't any feelings in the way of our bodies as they're about to touch. we have the usual small talk, she asks if i want something to drink and i say no, thank you. about an hour later the conversation gets... interesting, for lack of a better word. she stares at me and i get uncomfortable and i can't do anything but stare at my hands. there's silence for about a minute. it wouldn't be awkward if she wasn't giving me "death stares".
"do you miss me?" she asks.
i laugh because these types of questions always make me laugh. "no." i answer.
"liar." she says.
she knows me too well.
i let out a sigh "i don't." but i was lying. "that's the problem. you don't ever believe me. not when i say i love you and not when i say i do or don't miss you." my voice speaks with a slight tone of frustration.
"i just don't see how you could have loved me, you hardly knew me." she says.
"i just know that i loved you. and whatever i didn't know about you i wanted to find out. that's why i always 'interrogated you'. if it was up to me i'd know how many times you breathed and how many times your heart beat and how many times you blinked during the day. how many steps you took, all that. i wanted to know everything."
"that's creepy. but i still don't think you loved me."
"yeah, well i'm done trying to convince you. especially since you never let me show you."
she walks out of the room and i follow behind her. i love looking at her from behind. it's not even in a super dirty way. i was just in love with every single centimeter of this girl's body and one of my favorite physical things about her was her butt and hips. her dress swings slightly but begins to move more the faster she walks. i ask her what's going on and she says she's done with my shit. truth is, i would have been done with my shit too, but i'm also getting fed up with hers as well. her eyes light up when she says this and i can tell she's upset. i'm just not sure if she's sad or angry that i don't miss her... or that i said i didn't when she knows it's not true. i kinda liked her little tantrums and her dramatic ways, though, they made me feel a little important. we argue in the kitchen. i don't even know why or what it was about. i just remember arguing with her. sometimes i feel like she likes arguing with me for sport. just because she can and because she knows that when she decides to be nice again i will come back to her like a little puppy. i'm just a little puppy when it comes to her. desperate for her attention.
to be continued... i think.
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