Shiiiiddd…

Shiiiiddd…


“Don’t fall for me.”

“Nah, I promised myself not to.”
I watched him closely as he twirled a lock using his index finger and he exhaled, deeply. This was the guy I lost my virginity to a few months ago and the bond and relationship we created, wasn’t healthy.

He was fresh off a two year relationship break up and I on the other hand was just lonely and looking for physical affection. From the start, I knew I was the one who’d get utterly hurt. I saw it coming, but I chose to ignore it.

He was the closest thing I had to a relationship because of what we’d talk about and the sex. It was good, I liked it. He filled my mind with a lot including thoughts of our new sexual adventures and what we’d love to do plus our fantasies.

I was hooked. Hooked to his dick but mostly, his mind. He made me feel things no one else would. I let him in and I was vulnerable to him. He knew what I tasted like, he knew the texture of my tongue, he knew about the cuts on my thighs and those on my tummy too. He knew that I loved the feel of teeth sinking into my inner thighs. He knew everything. From the fact that I loved gold coated jewellery and vanilla to the fact that I loved it when he’d choke me as he slammed into me.

He was hurting though. I could see it. And I don’t know why, but I felt like I could save him. I felt like I could heal him and we’d both grow out of the anger and sadness we were so immersed in, that is if he let me. But he felt nothing for me; nothing. And this made me angry. Mostly sad, but I was angry at myself, for not being good enough for him.


He’d say that his perception on love isn’t as it used to be and therefore, he doesn’t know what he feels about me. Anyone would know that it was evident sugar coated rejection. And me, being me, had NEVER been rejected.

When it came to guys, I knew how to toy with their minds. I can name the boys I’ve legitimately liked and wanted to be with because of how emotionally absent I am when it comes to the topic of relationships. I’m that kind of asshole who doesn’t like you back and isn’t bothered by it. Karma.

I was willing to overlook how damaged we were and build, but… He didn’t like me and instead, he’d run after the girls who looked like they had everything under control; the make up, thousands of followers on social media, perfect tits and shit. He wanted the Kylie Jenner and I was the girl next door who wore sweatpants and crocs to school. I lived in a world I created for myself and locked everyone out of it. Everyone but him. He got to see just a bit, but not enough to keep him.

What did he want with such girls? They didn’t have anything in common with him. They wouldn’t be amused with what he liked. They wouldn’t see what I saw. They wouldn’t fuck him like I did… Is that who he really wanted his soul tied to?

He didn’t know what he wanted and he’d look for it in all the wrong places. And I made a huge mistake by blaming myself for something that he had control over. He was the problem all this time because I knew what I wanted; him.

For awhile, I lost myself because I thought I found him. And for the shortest time, had the most fun with just his company.

Sometimes he’s all I think of… And I hate that whenever I have a cig, all that clouds my mind is him as I recall when we’d take short night trips in the cold only to get 4 cigarettes.

I hate that I can’t touch myself without seeing his face.

I hate that he puts girls that aren’t me on his display photo.

I hate that he still talks to me like everything is okay.

I hate that I care.

I hate that it had to be him…

I hope he gets wiser and gets to see who is really down for him  because I’m the realest love he’ll ever get.

Also, may this peace he’s searched so long for, find him.

Friendzoned -.-

Friendzoned -.-

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“She  was  a  model  of  physical  perfection.  She was  my  gift.  But  I  lost  her  to  other  things…”  his  words  drifted  off  as  the  rain  began  to  fall.  He  then  turned  to  look  at  me;  I  was  not  bothered  the  slightest  by  the  downpour  and  from  the  corner  of  my  eye,  I  saw  him  smile.

“I  didn’t  like  her.”

“I  don’t  care.”

“You  deserve  someone  who’ll  look  at  you  the  way  I  look  at  food.”

“Now  that’s  impossible.”  he  nudged  me  and  laughed,  “your  love  for  food  is  literally  unattainable.”

What  he  didn’t  know  was  that  I  looked   at  him  in  a  way  no  one  else  would.  His  disgusting,  two-faced  self  had  my  attention  and  I  wanted  more  than  he  had  to  offer.  Many  advised  me  to  tell  him  but  the  reality  of  rejection  was  too  harsh  and  I  never  connected  with  the  concept  of  it.

I  was  slowly  seeping  into  my  subconscious  when  he  spoke.

“I  think  about  one  girl  in  particular,”  he  said,  hoping  to  provoke  a  reaction, “but  she’s  a  bore.”

“Then  she’s  not  for  us.”  I  said  flatly,  eyeing  him  closely  and  he  laughed.  I  watched  as  he  clutched  at  his  wet  shirt  and  shook  his  head.  I  giggled.  Being  in  the  state  we  were  in,  slightly  intoxicated,  our  laughter  was  uncontrollable  now.  We  were  hysterical.

The  rain  intensified  and  none  of  us  seemed  moved  by  it.  I  picked  up  the  bottle  of  cheap  vodka.  Unscrewing  the  cup  off,  I  lifted  the  bottle  to  my  lips  and  took  two  gulps  of  the  drink,  wincing   as  my  throat  burned.  I  kept  drinking  from  the  bottle  until  my  mind  turned  into  an  incoherent  wreck  and  my  rationality  was  basically  nonexistent.  I  felt  detached  from  reality  and  turned  to  Mike.  He  was  sleepy,  docile  and  high.  I  debated  for  what  felt  like  an  eternity  on  whether  I  should  tell  him  what  I  actually  felt  or  just  let  it  go.  Then  his  eyes  met  mine  and  he  parted  his  lips.

“Diane,  would  you  date  me?”  I  had  only  half  a  second  to  panic  and  my  eyes  widened.  In  my  drunken  state,  I  heard  what  I  wanted  to  hear  and   not  what  he  asked.

“I  mean,  would  you  date  someone  like  me?”  he  rephrased.

“Oh  thank  God!  I  thought  you  were  actually  asking  me  out!”  I  fake  laughed,  disappointed  and  angry.

“I  wouldn’t!”  He  joined  in  with  my  laughter.

“I  would.”

He  smiled  and  fist  bumped  me  then  pulled  me  in  for  a  hug.  I  felt  entirely  disoriented  by  the  feeling  of  being  so  close  to  the  kind  of  guy  I  wanted  to  be  so  close  to.  I  pushed  him  away  playfully  and  laughed.  Slowly,  he  reached  into  his  pocket,  pulled  out  his  phone  and  I  did  the  same.  I  unlocked  the  screen  and  scrolled  through  my  messages  then  looked  at  the  time.  20:34.  My  thumb  moved  to  the  home  button   and  I  switched  it  off  and  turned  to  look  at  him.  His  eyes  were  glued  to  his  phone’s  screen.

“I  have  this  gut  feeling  that  I’m  going  to  be  alone for  a  long,  long  time.”  He  spoke  in  a  trance  and  I  tried  not  to  breathe,  afraid  to  distract  him.  “This  is  the  first  girl  I  genuinely  liked,  if  not  loved.  But  things  didn’t  go  so  well  for  the  both  of  us.”  I  drank  from  the  bottle  again,  saddened  and  bitter  that  he  wouldn’t  notice  what  I  felt  for  him.  “It’s  something  I  have  come  to  terms  with.  Now  all  I  have  to  do  is  learn  to  assume  the  worst.”

“Look  around  you,”  I  hinted,  “th…th…there’s  probably  someone  who  reeeaally  cares  for  you…a..and  wants  to  be  with  you.”  My  speech  was  slurred  and  at  this  point,  my  eyes  were  bleary  and  unfixed,  attempting  to  seek  out  his.

“You’re  really  drunk.”  He  commented.

“You  don’t  say…”  my  statement  heavily  wreaked  of  sarcasm  just  as  my  breath  wreaked  of  the  spirit.

“Thanks  for  being  my  best  friend.”  He  said  and  turned  away,  looking  into  the  distance.  I  let  my  eyes  fall  on  whatever  he  was  looking  at  and  nodded.

After  what  he  had  said  to  me,  a  single  thought  haunted  me,  that  maybe…  just  maybe,  he  might  have  been  the  lonely  one  all  along.

.

.

“How  do  you  deal  with  not  getting  into  relationships?”  a  friend  asked  me  the  other  day  over  a  few  drinks  and  I  shrugged,  laughing.  Slightly  hurt  but  it  wasn’t  deep.  What  he  said  next  though,  hit  home  and  it  had  me  thinking  a  lot  about  everything.

“Aren’t  you  lonely?”  he  continued,  a  bit  more  serious.  I  know  he  wanted  to  dive  into  my  emotions  and  explore  how  I  feel  and  I  was  willing  to  let  him.  But  my  intoxicated  self  was  not  ready  for  it.  I  felt  my  cheeks  heat  up  and  forced  my  eyes  to  meet  his.  He  legitimately  looked  concerned  and  I  forced  my  expression  to  match  his.  For  a  short  while,  we  stared  at  each  other  and  he  raised  both  his  eye  brows,  urging  me  on.  I  laughed  and  he  followed.  We’ve  never  brought  it  up  again.

For  the  rest  of  the  night,  I  decided  to  hold  back  on  the  liquor  and  sparked  up  the  joint  I  had  been  carrying  around  in  my  bag  for  about  two  days.  Four  drags  in  and  I  was  deep  in  my  feelings.  My  sadness  and  mixed  emotions  hit  me  like  a  brick  wall  and  in  a  room  full  of  people,  I  was  lonely  as  shit.

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I  focused  on  my  body’s  high,  trying  to  push  away  the  emotions  that  overwhelmed  me.  How  is  it  that  I  had  never  talked  about  myself  in  depth  to  him  yet  he  knew  that  I  was  lonely?  Was  it  that  obvious?  Did  he  smell  it  off  me?  Does  that  mean  that  everyone  else  can  tell  I’m  lonely  too?  I  was  thinking  too  much  on  the  subject  and  decided  on  the  reasoning  that  he,  too  was  lonely  and  wanted  to  know  if  anyone  else  felt  what  he  felt.

Wasn’t  that  much  of  a  reliable  console  but  I  was  high  and  drunk. It  made  a  lot  more  sense  then. When  I  got  home,  I  did  nothing  but  lay  in  bed  and  burn  a  few  more  joints  as  I  thought hard  and  deep  about  how  I  had  so  much  love  to  give  but  no one  to  give  it  to.

After  I  realized  my  loneliness,  it  didn’t  bother  me  much  anymore for  I  learnt  how  to  cope  with  it. What  bothered  me  though  were  the  lonely  nights.  Just  the  thought  of  seeping  under  my  covers  with  no one  to  hold  me  drove  me  closer  to  insanity  than  anything  else  would. Having  to  be  that  vulnerable  before  anyone  takes  more  than  just  friendship.