I was waiting for him to come home. The oven's fun green clock burned 3:24. I sighed and rolled wrist in attempts to calm my nerves.
Kenny was never usually this late coming home, not without warning. Sometimes he would send me a message that simply said he wouldn't be coming back tonight.
But my phone was silent. The cracked screen blank.
I scratched mindlessly and gently at the the underside of my jaw.
It was a nervous tick to rub and pick at something, usually my skin, sometimes my clothes.
I could see Kenny scolding me- telling me to stop picking at myself, before I got hurt.
My eyes drooped as I yawned to myself.
I was feeling nervous that something bad was going to happen. My nerves were fried and I was nervous.
Nervous, nervous, nervous.
I tapped my other hand aimlessly against the table.
Then, ping.
My eyes shoot over to barely lit screen, with a simply message: "Staying here."
I sighed and combed my hands angrily through my hair.
Why do I always let myself trust people who are going to let me down?
I know he doesn't mean to hurt me. I know he doesn't see that it's killing me how much he's gone.
I doesn't matter.
I don't have the right to feel upset about it.
I don't understand.
He told me, I don't understand.
I don't have a clue.
I scratch the bandage on my wrist.
To think I wasted so much time waiting for him to come home to me again...
What a waste.
What an idiot, I am.
