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MY GAZE SETTLES ON THE WATER. The paper bag beside me is untouched. I've lost my appetite, courtesy of one too many lattes and the dwelling frustration of hating it here hanging over my head. I can hear my ringtone buzzing from my purse: someone's calling me. Probably Delphine. She calls often — which I genuinely do appreciate, it's just sometimes I'm incapable of picking up the phone and actually answering. What I really need is some time to think right now.
As for Alex, my deliriously bleach blonde stepbrother, we've yet to reconcile since last Tuesday after flying back from France. (Who fly's to France for a weekend? Me, apparently.) I keep attacking myself inwardly for being so distant when in contrast he had seemed so excited to get to know me, but I've also realized that I can't change the past. I'm much too easily clouded by my emotions, that much I know for sure. I remember my therapist used to say It's good to recognize your toxic patterns, because I can't just blame every problem I ever find myself dealing with on somebody else.
Abandonment issues? I've got my dad to thank for that. Fear of intimacy? Yep, owe that one to him too. The inability to trust? Abusing coping mechanisms? Having absolutely no fucking clue on how to work through my feelings of sadness and immediately resorting to anger instead?
Check, check, double check.
I'll put a stop to the list now for the sake of my sanity, but it could've gone on forever if I'd let it.
For some reason I just can't help but let things get the better of me. Like whenever my father opens his mouth, all I feel is rage — to the point where it's completely unwilling. It's biting down on the inside of my cheeks so hard that the metallic bitterness of blood rushes through my mouth. It's balling my fists so tightly into themselves because my hands feel like they're on fire, eager to unleash the anger that crawled its way deep down inside me. It's staring at the wall, my face a blank slate and my eyes saying it all. I've got a problem. A problem that's a hell of a lot easier to ignore than to accept.
Anyways, my point is that I'm considering apologizing.
I've let my anger get the better of me. Alex has done nothing but be kind to me and it's unfair — and not to mention immature — of me to project the issues my father and I share onto him. (I know! What a huge fucking shocker that I'm even saying this!)
How I go about rebuilding my bridges is an entirely different story that I haven't decided on quite yet . . . Yesterday as I was leaving the bathroom I heard a few girls whispering about some sort of party Delphine is throwing tomorrow night. Maybe I'll go, maybe I won't.
