Prologue:
Honesty was a virtue that most women found extremely attractive in men. That being stated, I could safely say that nowadays, most men are unattractive, simply because they lack this certain quality. This thought leads men into thinking that we are overly attached, self-centered and demanding individuals who live their lives by hypocrisy. I mean, I admit that girls can stretch the truth most of the time, but we don’t hurt guys as much as they hurt us.
“Are you okay?” I felt a soft pat on my back as these words echoed through my ears.
“Oh, I’m grand,” I rolled my eyes mentally, “I’m just crying after all. Everything’s alright. Oh, yes, I feel dandy.”
I caught glimpse of a smile creeping up on my friend’s face, immediately being hidden because it obviously didn’t go with the atmosphere. I smiled a little myself, trying my best not to break down for the hundredth time today. Though, as hard as I tried, small sobs kept escaping my chest, backing me up into a corner labeled, Another Emotional Fit.
“Do you want to, uh,” She scrambled for the right words, frustrated at the task given to her, “Talk about it?”
The task was to comfort me. So far, the percentage of the mission she strived to accomplish was about zero percent. Juliana—the only person whose shoulder I could cry on anytime, including now—was also, without a doubt, trying her best. She tried to comfort the emotional wreck in front of her in the most effective way she could think of that didn’t involve viciously murdering, or hurting, anybody in any way.
“No,” I shook my head vigorously, “Talking about this would bring up memories, and once those memories float up to the surface, I’m sure I’ll get into a crazy killing spree. Would you want that?”
She smiled, “As a matter of fact, I—”
I cut her off with a firm, “No.”
Her face scrunched up a little, looking me up and down, conveying the mental message that I was out of mind because I didn’t want to kill my ex. I looked at her in return, furrowing my brows as I began to speak, “I am not crazy for not wanting to kill my ex. Do you really think normal people would choose to torture their unfaithful exes instead of just trying to move on?”
“But you need to cool off,” She explained, “If you don’t want to murder anyone, then the least you could do to calm down is talk about how much your ex is an inconsiderate, self-absorbed, two-timing prick, who obviously cannot keep his hands to himself—or at least to his current girlfriend.”
This caused my rage meter to rise even higher, sending all my emotions in an angrily twisted structure, fueling, yet another, cause for an emotional breakdown. Truthfully, the whole scene of me bawling my eyes out was getting old but, believe me when I tell you this, if I could stop the tears from flowing, I would. But I can’t, so that just sucks for me.
I sighed heavily, “Alright, where do you want me to start?” I looked up at her, raising my eyebrows, “The last week of my happiness or when Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit?”
“Oh, darling, as much as the thought of spending an eternity here listening to you rant on about the beginning of time and how evolution took place appeals to me, I just don’t think I have the time,” She looked at me with a mischievous grin, then resumed normal conversation, “How about when you started having doubts?”
