Wish that was me who ran the fine line of smile at the open air, a content heart, a blatant happy lines written all over my forehead...
A shameless anger or jealousy or disappointment thrown at me for something I've never had. Or committed.
Shame on me.
Shame on us.
Things could've been better.
I ran my fingers around the glass with withered fake smile , tried to keep up with the on-going conversation...'It can't hurt that much...' I answered myself.
I decided to roam around the room, assuring myself that these feet still can hold on tight to the soil, keep me from trembling harder inside.
What always hurts me is when someone I care much a mad at me.
What hurts more is when s/he shows a hurt face.
What hurts the most is when s/he finally wraps it up in an honest yet vulgar resentment.
Some part of me died inside.
S/he can't be that mad at me...I try to recall it all over again...the face, the voice. The changes.
I was wrong. If I did.
Anyhow, none of the truth matters to him/her....it's blurred with the whole self-made impoverished resentment.
'Will talk to you,' the voice beamed onto my ears, I nodded, 'A really serious one.'
I nodded, Monday will be the day.
Then a slap-in-the-face remark hit my ears from the phone, 'Hi Moron...' it said in such intense sarcasm, it's uttered more than three times, I can't help it...as if the person was standing before me.
My heart rippled, my face sank to the cold floor, 'Yes?' I replied, my voice was so unsure, swallowed the remaining strength and went on talking on the phone, to deliver the important info.
Can't we make it easier? I beg in silence with eyes tight closed, I already miss the person as if I had loose it for real.
It's going to be a hard weekend for me, one of those days..
I don't wanna loose the trust, the warmth, I don't wanna loose them, nor the person.
Or, maybe this shall happen, anyhow?
Then...I'll make it easy, at least for me before I run my eyes to the dark night sky and scream out the the silence sadness and let what's left in me scattered around.
Life has never been easy, indeed. The taste of my own words at the tip of my tongue...my own voice screeches more scars down here.
Just give me that one word then I will be whole-heartedly go in obedient silence.
I can't wait until Monday, it's killing me. Really.