My Way

It’s like, we talked in spirals, you know?

You and me. It’s been the same since we were kids, running around all the rides in the playground.

Everything is in circles with us. Every conversation, every joke, every sigh – we’ve been there before a million times.

You knew all my triggers, you knew how each tear would stain. So much so that one time you decided that the basketball game was more important than the mascara on my pillowcase.

‘She’s got daddy issues, you know.’, is what you said to our friends over brunch next Sunday, when I quit and was nowhere to be found.

Fast forward seven years, and it’s you, me and my one-week old boyfriend who greeted you with a ‘hola hermano’ in a shady little club in the downtown area. He raced off to the keg-stand to put money on his little brother when you finally leaned in and whispered,

‘What do you see in him, anyway?’

All the Sunday brunches and pool parties I’d missed, what for?

I let the moment linger, that one moment when it feels like you’re moving through molasses and everything that’s been out of focus for so long is finally making sense.

That moment when you look out to see your boyfriend throwing up all over the place while your ex-lover’s gaze beholds you.

The moment passed.

‘You see him? He doesn’t wear Gucci, or drive a Porsche, or has a future in any sense of the term. But when he hurts me, he doesn’t do it on purpose. When I wake up in the middle of the night, shivering and stone cold, he doesn’t turn over to his side. When there’s make-up running down my face, he doesn’t say, “Fix yourself up, we have a party to attend to.”

That’s why I ran in the first place.’

‘And what are you gonna do when all the tricks stop working and the toy’s broken?’

I took a sip of the warm beer from my plastic cup. It tasted good.

‘I’ll run again.
It’s kinda my thing now.’

6 thoughts on “My Way

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