THIEF [S.M.]

sixteen

Journal Entry #89

Her face was pinched and her hair was damp when I ran into her and Arlo at the grocery store this morning. Hand in hand they walked, grazing through the produce section without speaking a word to one another.

When I called her aside she chewed nervously on her bottom lip, though she wasn't reluctant to spill her thoughts.

"Just because it meant something to you doesn't mean it meant anything to me."

She wasn't wrong, it did mean everything to me. One night in the safe haven of her touch, doused in the salts of her love, the taste of her skin, the feel of her smooth body against mine, meant without a doubt everything to me. It wasn't just sex, it was love. It was love. She had to of felt it like I did.

"It was a thoughtless mistake."

Although I know she wasn't thinking this when she kissed me back that night. When she enveloped me in unfamiliar affection and offered me every inch of herself. She knows she wasn't thinking this.

I won't lie, I was tempted to squash Arlo for stealing her heart back, swiping her with such grace under his arm and leaving me heartbroken in the midst of her strawberry scented dust.

I must say, having feelings for this girl in specific has sent me on a roller coaster of pain. But I'm willing to fight through it if it means she's mine in the end.

I stared at her blankly as all these thoughts ignited in the chambers of my never-quiet brain. She blinked at me, picking at her nails and still biting her lip.

I begged the expression on my face to remain neutral, but I must not have succeeded because her face softly  transformed into the one you'd give a peer when you find out their pet fish died. She glanced back at Arlo who was tapping his foot without specific rhythm and seemingly squinting at my face like he was trying to read my mind.

Inhaling slowly, she whispered, staring at the white mud stained tile between us and doodling circles with her foot,"Sorry."

Heartless. What happened to the golden heart she gave me? The one I fell in love with? How the hell can someone so lovely be so insensitive in this situation?

At that point, as she was backing away towards Arlo, I stepped close to her and pressed my palms into her shoulders. Too roughly, I think.

"Venus, I love you." I blurted. She wasn't scared of me in this moment. She wasn't shocked at my sudden unexpected gesture. She wasn't one bit surprised. She simply nodded as Arlo interfered, shoving me away from Venus and pulling her into his chest as if she'd just been molested, but she didn't break eye contact with me. I leered angrily at Arlo as he flashed me his meaty middle finger as I stormed off to the checkout line where I purchased eggs, coffee grounds, and tonight's chicken noodle soup. (Note to self: Needed milk, neglected to get any, add it to the grocery list.)

I'm really mad. Like, really mad. I don't even know who I'm mad at exactly, I'm just raging.

And so I sit, in the darkness of my bedroom, thinking of her. Music booms from the neighbors' speakers, not helpful to the throbbing ache in my head. My eyes are dry, my lips are wet and my cheeks are swollen.

I'm exhausted. Emotionally, physically. I need a break.

I inhale the last few bits of my cigarette, abstract puffs of smoke floating into nothing as I reached into the carton on my desk for another "cancer stick," only to find that the box was empty. And in this pointless, unimportant, stupid little moment, I hated everything about myself.

I hated the way I breathed; slow, loud and too whiningly when I'd sigh. I hated the way my refrigerator was always empty and I hated the bean-shaped coffee stain I had left on my pillow case last month. I hated the four records I had lined on my shelf, unopened and layered with dust because I didn't have the means nor the device to listen to them. I hated my hands, too big and all beat up with cuts and scratches here and there, with new ones accompanying them almost daily for a reason I've yet to find out. I hated the way I spoke, too articulately and never quiet enough. And most of all I loathed the way I was in love with her, and was not giving up even though it was fairly evident I should, and this is not how I want to feel about myself, but I've yet to determine the way out of the endless maze of my self hatred.

I'm stuck. And so here's today's entry. And it's morbid and dull and I know, but that's kind of who I am, isn't it?