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It still hurts.
I’m disappointed in myself for thinking he would want anything to do with me. And maybe a little at him for omitting what we shared. He could at least speak about it with me and reject me vocally.
For closure purposes.
Pretending like nothing ever happened is so much worse.
I was so open with him because I figured if I did he would feel comfortable being open with me. He would want to get to know me more and talk to me.
My mind can’t stop replaying our conversation and that stupid kiss that left a permanent mark on my lips. And I can’t push away the constant need to hear from him.
Why does this have to be so frustrating?
Why can’t I just forget he exists for as long as he stays away?
Naïve.
Rock blows smoke rings, “You’re young. A little bit naïve because you grew up surrounded by the best people anyone would gladly call family and friends. That’s one of the many things that is endearing about you.” He finishes his statement with a long blow of smoke.
“Don’t fill her mind with your bullshit,” Jamey is quick to intervene, seating his ass next to me on the sand. “Don’t listen to Rock, he’s known as The Jinxer.”
I chuckle. “What am I known as?”
“My sister!” he hijacks Rock’s smoke, tucks it between his lips and exhales. “That’s all they need to know.” He eyes Rock.
“You know I’m almost eighteen, right?”
“So!?” he pulls a wry smile. “I will always watch over you, Len.” He puts his fist in front of me, smiling widely and waiting for me to fist-bump him. “Opinions are great but they can sabotage someone’s path and own state of mind. It makes you think that this is the ‘correct’ answer and it denies you the freedom of exploration.”
“Such a poet, my love,” Rock says in a sarcastic tone while rubbing his chest.
Flipping him the bird, “Fuck off, Rock,” Jamey winks at me.
These days, people effortlessly forget others. Sliding individuals from left to right or vice versa and continuing with their lives like nothing ever happened.
How?
Am I a dysfunctional woman in our generation?
My mind won’t let me forget. Plain and simple. I can’t swipe it away like they never existed in the first place.
One moment you’re here, the next you’re gone. All those insignificant moments become a beloved memory.
A few days ago I saw a post about a young man, probably my age, who lost his life in a motorcycle accident. Every time I see those kinds of posts it makes me sad and tears start flowing. I mourn them too. Because they meant something to someone. They existed. They left their mark somewhere. And now it’s like they never even walked these streets.
Maybe I am naïve. Maybe I am young. Maybe my weakness is that I care, even for people that I’ve never even met. One thing is certain, I deserve to be acknowledged and not ignored.
Scar’s paw taps on my phone as if egging me on to do what? I’m not sure.
“What do you suggest,” I thread my fingers through his fur and snatch my phone in my other hand.
His meow turns to chatter as if he is telling me what he meant.
I wish I understood him instead of staring at my black screen, contemplating my every move before I do something stupid—again.
Sitting next to Jamey, he tucks me to the side of his frame, putting his arm around my shoulders.
I lean my head on his chest and sign.
