:update:
Click to viewI need to get this off my chest or else I will explode. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes right now, and I'm listening to "Sometime After Midnight" by The Airborne Toxic Event. Why? Because I want it to be that way, I want him to regret everything horrible he's ever done to me. This doesn't mean I don't regret everything I've done, from the moment I walked into that classroom. Because ... I know I'm not the innocent party either. I can not help it because I probably won't let this go, ever, so please don't hold it against me. The scorned will of a woman is often lost among few, but I just can't let this go. I don't know why. Perhaps it is because a little bit of me died that day he took me those four years ago, and we wrapped ourselves up in the mess of each other then walked our separate ways. That day he forgot me, he forgot who I was and forgot that I was his friend. I became something different than a friend to him that day, but not a good something different. The backup girl.
I say died because that part of me, that innocent naivity that rejected him because of his sex but was attracted because of his intellect, died. Rejected because of his sex, what an interesting way to phrase it. Think of it this way, 14 year old me was very much the type who felt boys were icky. I guess a part of me died again, perhaps that part was revived and relived for a brief month and a half stent within me. Perhaps that naivity relived itself in full glory as we sat on the couch and watched Family Guy together, or whatever it was that we did together. Target, it was Target.
I'm trying to forget it, trying really hard, but in the words of Tia Carerra by way of Wayne's World "there's a little bit of you in everything I do". This is true, not trying to be sappy or anything. Driving down certain roads, passed certain restaurants, playing certain movies or video games. We had a lot in common, and there's a lot that reminds me of ... well ... a lot. Yes, I know, I should move on - and I am. If you were around me daily you'd never hear me once talk about it, sniffle, cry, or anything. In fact you probably wouldn't know it happened unless I told you. So this outburst is nothing but me being hormonal and crying over something absolutely retarded.
We always do this in relationships, when they end. Reflect on the past, and there are moments where even little things like pancakes can remind you of someone. Then it comes, that rush. Like a wave of memories and emotions. Then tears. Then silence. It's a passing thing, like a tsunami.
We never really were friends, more like passing acquaintances who happened to have a few things in common. Maybe that's how our friendship worked. We just happened to be shoved into rooms together and forced to interact. First it began with Spanish class, then the hallway before English, then Beth's birthdays, then that guitar lesson. I guess I was nothing back then, and how could I ever expect any of it to change? Maybe there's a part of me that always looked for something more in him, because I believed in him. Not that sort of "I want a relationship" something more, but something beyond that passing acquaintance. Probably because I saw something in him, and still see something in him, that he's just too callus to see. Maybe I did always love him, but none of that can be fully realized, or has ever mattered to him or mattered to the nature of our relationship. I just wanted respect. It doesn't matter now. I'll just be a ghost in it all, a ghost that passes bye. I'll never be that girl in the song, but ... can you blame a girl for wanting it?
And it starts, sometime around midnight.
Or at least that’s when you lose yourself
for a minute or two.
As you stand, under the bar lights.
And the band plays some song
about forgetting yourself for a while.
And the piano’s this melancholy soundtrack to her smile.
And that white dress she’s wearing
you haven’t seen her for a while.
But you know, that she’s watching.
She’s laughing, she’s turning.
She’s holding her tonic like a cross*.
The room’s suddenly spinning.
She walks up and asks how you are.
So you can smell her perfume.
You can see her lying naked in your arms.
And so there’s a change, in your emotions.
And all these memories come rushing
like feral waves to your mind.
Of the curl of your bodies,
like two perfect circles entwined.
And you feel hopeless and homeless
and lost in the haze of the wine.
Then she leaves, with someone you don’t know.
But she makes sure you saw her.
She looks right at you and bolts.
As she walks out the door,
your blood boiling
your stomach in ropes.
Oh and when your friends say,
“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Then you walk, under the streetlights.
And you’re too drunk to notice,
that everyone is staring at you.
You just don’t care what you look like,
the world is falling around you.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You know that she’ll break you in two.