let's go surfing

I came home to an empty room. The Winnie-the-Pooh nightshirt that was ripped the night you broke up with me was not on the floor where I had left it yesterday morning — my mother always hated it, having to remember hearing me awake late at night crying into the phone, asking you not to leave me. The shelves, which had held so much of the memories I couldn't remember anymore, were ransacked, as was my bed. I started to inventory which old bears were missing, but realized it would hurt too much. I let the survivors retire on my now bare shelves and crawled into my empty bed.


Three years ago I must have left a piece of myself in your apartment. It was something I couldn't get back, because I didn't want to see the place that I loved so much. You neglected to put it in the bag of my belongings you returned to me just to see me hurt and ask you back again, though I doubt you would have found it in the first place: you never really knew how much I wanted to be with you. I sat on the couch that night, and she was there with me, making me anxious to see you, making me jealous and hurt and horny, all the emotions that made you call me "hysterical" and want me even more. And, just like back then, it wasn't right.


Even though I only had to hear it second-hand, I can imagine the biting tone of your voice as you ask angrily, "Why are you calling me?". I have to smile inside at the fact that my sister told you to fuck off, but more importantly I realized you probably wanted me to die. Or at least try to. It would have made us even, in a sick sort of way.


As I drag my body up the stairs, tired from being stared at, I can't help but wish to have someone in my life that isn't attracted to me at all. I want to be that old married couple that isn't quite old enough that everything is forgiven, or young enough that they are even remotely interested in sex with each other anymore. I don't want to be physical and crazy, I don't want to be held responsible for every single breath you take. I just want a friend to help me forget how empty my life is.