Stream of Consciousness: Last Night

Last night we barely even saw each other. In fact, I saw you before you saw me which is fairly dangerous and then I meagerly positioned myself so that you wouldn’t see me right away. I tried to laugh at the right times and hug all the right people, I tried to finish that stupid drink on an empty stomach and I did none of those things right. Of course, I laughed with a weird force smile and held onto the cup without thinking that I should just put it down. Last night, we didn’t kiss. We barely even touched. And when we did your hug was so cold I thought I could have easily just met you for the first time. As if, as if you barely remembered me or I was that girl in one of your high school classes that you never talked to and accidentally ran into a few years later. You would ask me about my post-graduation life and I would think of the hundreds of things that I had done that had barely mattered, the very real laughs I had shared and the much warmer hugs that had embraced my perpetually cold body and I would realize that too much time would have even passed to make it worthwhile to try and ease the awkward tension hanging between us. I would tell you my life has been busy and great and ask, in a forced enthused way how you were too. I would see the flicker of your greatness (and your failures) the loves and lost ones and you would answer much in the same way. Your response would stab me a little even though I did the same thing. I guess, I’m always the reliant, dependent one.
But I’m not that girl. I saw you only a mere few weeks ago. The light was better, I saw your face. In fact, you were the very first face I even saw. The one that had helped me get there. And I fell into your arms right away and the heat that reached my body was fatal and real. We had just enough to say, the laughs felt genuine. And last night you left 10 minutes after I even saw you under some weird circumstances that fate or something worse had prescribed because I needed to be screamed at that IT IS OVER. That once was never will be never once again, because the ideal is not meeting with reality along the same horizontal path I now walk on. Last night I went home 20 minutes after you left and tried to erase you from my dreams.


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