Sep 12, 2009

me and him

he sat there. wearing his favorite t-shirt that looks really dubious in him. it's his forth cigarette now, saying nothing. 

i sat there, too. in front of him. staring at his lay-about. every seconds, gave me hard time holding my nerve to intentionally slap him in the nose.

him : well.... (finally! a word). i know what you want.
me  : really? i don't.
him : you want to talk. (genius!) asking things. find out what's inside me
        well, go. ask me.
(such pompous son of a piggy!)
me  : ...
him : i know i'm a jerk to you lately. it's a scene. 
me  : i know. i'm no retarded.
him : my feelings on you is getting stronger, i makes wanna kill myself.
(grabbing his fifth cigarette)
him : you know we ca-...
me  : i know! i know, you know. let's just deal with it, okay! 
        i know i cannot touch you,'re some sort of sacred public 
him : i'm sorry.
me  : no. don't be. it's not your fault.
him : i'm sorry you're mad
me  : i'm not mad at you. i'm just mad of this shithole situation. that, you 
        and i, cannot be together. it's just driving me nuts.
him : yea. shithole, alright.
me  : it's hard. y'know.
him : i know.
me  : let's just go home.
and so he walked me home. take my hand all the way. kissed me goodbye. and walked away. we already know, this is the last time

him : i'll call you.

we know we'll hate each other someday. eventually.

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