Our War Of Sorts

It was a dark afternoon. Regardless of everything you've got me into lately, it's really cloudy for a Thursday summer afternoon. I was walking sluggishly in that same park, not thinking about everything, not thinking about anything specific at all. 

It was half past six when drizzles started to fall. The cool air was comforting and the soles of my feet started to get wet as I saw those two little kids who were we thirteen years ago. The scent of the ground, the wet grass against my feet and the kids were streaks of reality while my mind is thoroughly captivated by the abstract silence and the thoughts of it. We're both turning twenty this year.

I made a sad chuckle when I thought of our good times before it all went messy. I could blame you. I hated you even then. I hated your guts. So much. Our parents were very good friends so I was forced to be friends with you. I could remember you saying, "Let's write our names to that rusty seesaw so they would know this park is ours." We used to be territorial because kids our age had this war of sorts that you have to name everything. It was pathetic to me even then. I hated you but I made you do it anyway because getting in your way used to shut you up. The very next day, the park's caretaker busted us to our parents and we were grounded for about a week. My mom used to say that you're a bad influence and I should stop hanging out with you, that's when I figured out that we're gonna be real tight and I will stick with you forever. I love it when my mom is upset. A week later we went back to the park and the seesaw was ours. 

That's when the lamppost's light distracted me. It intensified the entire park as it took the rain's entire gleam. It reminded me of how much of an asshole you are. I sat in that very hidden and the darkest part of the park. I pulled a stick of cigarette that I bought earlier.

We were in this very same spot years ago, these wooden chairs weren't here yet and it was all grassy. We used to lay here every after school when we skip the chores that we should be doing. I remember you saying while your eyes are gone to the clear sky: "Do you ever wonder if we are in someone's dream, and when we die, it's actually just the person waking up?". You were just as weird as I am. I didn't say anything. I just laughed at you. "How can you laugh at me when you're way more dorky than I am. What kind of best friend are you? You are writing stories of you as the protagonist with the grim, what's the matter with you?!" you said as you made the face. You loved to do the face. It's something you took with you as we grew old. It was funny. 

I lit the cigarette and the first hit reminded me of how you smell. We were seventeen when you started to smell like a handsome grown man and cigars. Way far from who you were when we were twelve. Your scent used to smell like apples to me, apples but sometimes really smelly apples. You actually smelled like apples and cigars yesterday. And it didn't make me smile anymore. I took another hit to prove that I hate you and your scent.

This also was the exact place where I had my first cigar. Actually I wasn't really fond of it because it makes me dizzy. I literally froze when you said, "Do you mind if I smoke?" Without waiting for an answer, you lit a cigarette and as my usual reaction for something unusual, I screamed really loud and you did panic and accidentally threw your last stick away. I ended up laughing so hard and I told you that you should stop smoking cigars. We ended up buying a pack and you were teaching me how to lit it.

I hated you so many times in my life; today is the worst. Second, the day that we get busted about the cigarettes. We used to eat at your living room. We would ransack the fridge. I love your very cozy couch, it was 500% more comfortable than our couch, then we would scan your older sister's huge pile of DVDs. God, you hated chick flicks. Your mom usually comes home with a huge box of pizza that we both loved. One time we got nothing to eat and then she came with another pan, we both welcomed her with hugs, it was pure delight, she pushed us instantly. She was so furious. I remember how she yelled to us. Honestly, I can't remember until now what she were saying because we were both too busy holding in our laughters. I love your mom for not telling my mom though.

I must admit. It was all amazing and it was the happiest days of my life. But now, everything that reminded me of you intensified the hatred. I never hated anyone this much in my life and that's how I know that this is how much I love you. I was clueless. I can possibly write a book about my life right now and I can call it 50 Shades Of Gray. And the fault is entirely yours. You made it all turned to it.

I literally thought of killing myself as I remember everything when I saw the photo of us during the prom night. You gave it to me and placed it at my bedside table the very next day. I used to look at that picture and I can't help but remember the fun night. Your arms were around my neck and you're doing the face. I should've thrown everything away this morning. I stood up while taking a huge smoke from the stick thinking that I don't want to die anymore. I remember you saying I was a huge fan of the angel of death, but I guess you can't kill a person who's already dead inside. I would tell you this but I can hear your laugh right at my face. It was as horrible as you. 

I went to the old seesaw because I wanted to erase the bullshit we wrote thirteen years ago. Anyway, that's how it all started. I did pick a sharp rock, made the turn and that's when I found out that it was painted blue already. Somebody took the seesaw away from us even before us. Nobody won our war of sorts. That's when I started crying. Hard.

Minutes later I went back to the streets and as I was about to cross the road, I remember my weird dream last night, this is why I'm here by the way, or maybe to delay seeing you again too. I don't care. I chose this park because I dreamt of us being kids again. Like how it was when we wrote our names. It was all perfect. We were both really happy in the dream and then I told you I love you. I saw your sweet smile and then you came near me and you're about to whisper something. That's when my mom woke me up. It was surreal. I was thinking that I should've told you how much I love you. The next thing I remember is how your mom hugged me and guided me inside of your very familiar house. It's arranged differently now, I was crying so hard when I remember that I was the one to dream about you as I see your coffin right in the middle of your living room.