How to Love You

51

December 6th

As I stepped into the crowded house, full of gossiping adults, I couldn't help but feel out of place at your parents annual anniversary party this year. Normally, I would have you beside me, gripping onto my arm and politely waving to a few bystanders, but now I'm alone. It's almost as if I was just dropped into this unknown area with a group of total strangers; I'm pretty sure I stood by the front door for about two minutes, debating whether or not I should leave.

Why did I even agree to this in the first place? It was a terrible idea, considering we aren't even a couple anymore! I wouldn't even consider us friends at this point, so maybe I should respect your decisions and remain totally out of your life, just like you had wanted.

Before I could retreat away, your gleaming parents both approached me with their arms outstretched.

"Oh, Chase, we've missed you," your mother said, while engulfing me in a tight hug, "Matt keeps eating all the appetizers." She chuckled momentarily, and then, looked up at your father, who was towering over me.

"It's so good to see you, Chase. You look great." Your father nodded, as if giving me his silent approval.

Little did they know I had just endured the most excruciating weeks of my life, where I truly believed it was okay to go a week without showering and that paying my bills was unnecessary. All that because of their beautiful and angelic little sweetheart, Danielle.

"Thank you, guys, and congrats on making it to another year." I replied, giving the best smile I could possibly muster up at a moment like this.

Without another second of small talk, I looked up at the winding staircase to see you descending it, wearing a skimpy black sweater dress with a pair of stiletto heels. Had I not been already struck by your outfit, your hair, that was now shoulder length and in curly wisps, left me stunned. You looked so mature and dull, as if all your innocence and purity had been stripped away over the passed few weeks. You no longer look like yourself, and I actually think that may be a good thing. I would never fall in love again with the Danielle you've become.

Good news, although a little bitter, is I finally can say I may be doing life a little better than you, baby.