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it was the first time i had talked to him in months, and things i haven't done in so long started reappearing. i wanted to die, i wanted to throw up, i wanted to slit my wrists into two even ends. the world was blurring around me when he said he was in love with the pretty girl next to me.
when we spoke, he didn't say my name as if he'd forced the name from his mouth after we broke up. but when i said his, it sounded like a plea that broke the last shards of my memories. i gripped the table as we spoke, like i gripped the handlebars of the very first bike i learned to ride. i tried to talk to him without being sick but i could feel the poison running though my veins, shredding me apart from the inside.
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