Stranger

You are not a bad friend of reason. You are a best friend of excuses. 

Of which, is reflected, through every action you have taken, every step you have made, every preference you have chosen over something else. French fries over mashed potatoes. Not because they are mouthwatering, but because I never fail to make you eat mashed potatoes that I have made. She over me. Not because she makes you happier, but because I will still stay around although you keep coming and going. Just like now. 

My thoughts fled to a fragment within my photographic memory. You, me, and those empty bottles of beer on a seaside. No, there were no star in the sky; but still, we gazed to it as if they were there. There is no friendship between us; but still, we cuddle in some nights as if we have it. Day by day around you makes me lose my sanity gradually. 

“I miss you,” I said. Expecting an answer to come out of your mouth. Expecting a caress shows up. Expecting a quiet, intimate moment of tranquility. Can’t I have it? Predictably, you did not say a thing. I can never stop being a stupid damsel. “Say something…” I said again. I could feel the bitterness in my mouth. Why have I too bad for you, of all people? A friend who always disguise her excuses by saying, “I am being reasonable.” A friend who never knows what she wants. A friend who pretends to have grown up but can never make her own choices. I utterly knew it was just going to be another excuse coming from your throat.

“It was not a question,” you answered, without even looking at my eyes. I immediately wanted to leave, but again, you did not let me go. I still can feel the way you grasp my waist so tightly, leaving me with no other choice but to stay. You perfectly know that I’ll never be tired of waiting you. Even so, let me tell you, I’m fucking tired of being in pain. The pain of seeing you leaving every morning after without saying good morning but goodbye. The pain of glancing to photos of you was if I know nothing about you. The pain of smelling your scent attached to the shirts you deliberately leave under my pillow. I walked out of my door to spend a scrap of my life. No, there is no you in it. And I guess there will never be.

A bottle of iced water to keep me calm.

A poem to describe my feeling

Sunglasses to keep me away from the crowd when I want to.

I still need you, but you don't.

Because the more I grow fonder of you, the more I wish we were strangers again.

Oh wait, we already are.

M