Cloudy With A Chance of Cliché

A little bit of sentiment, a little bit of love.

When I was a wee innocent toddler,  my parents had ingrained it in me to never turn your back on things. Yeah,  I know it seems ridiculous. Me?  Innocent? 

Never take the easy way out. Never take the coward's way out. 

If you got a problem,  you goddamn face it with a steeled face and an iron resolve. 

"Just don't run, " my mother used to mumble in my ear. 

That worked out well.  I never ran willingly during PE.

My parents were one of those strong people. I guess I just wasn't,  no matter how hard I tried. 

Because when my pet hamster died in 5th grade,  when I failed a test,  when the Aprilof 2014 hit,  I ran so fast and I ran so long,  that normal velocity ceased to exist anymore. The normal world ceased to exist. 

And just for a moment,  the pain of your lungs working overtime,  the anaerobic respiration in your muscles,  the frantic beats of your heart and sweat trickling down your face might just help you forget. If not for eternity,  at least for two seconds.

It pains me to continue. 

But it hurts much more to stop.

So,  when the flashback came back to me -  the buses,  the hurt,  the hate,  the tiny pigtails,  the toothy smile, her- I did what I always did. I ran. 

I ran out of the beachhouse and away from my friends questioning gazes.  I ran everywhere and nowhere.

I wasn't being a prissy just because someone called me out on some intimacy issues. There are fates worse than that. Molestation,  for example. Suicide,  for example. 

I ran on the beach sand,  the thump thump of my footsteps reverbrating,  until I just stopped and gazed. I hadn't even put on shoes,  I noted dumby.

The moon was behind the clouds tonight. The sea looked pitch black.

I walked towards it in a trance. Numbly,  my legs collapsed under me, and I pulled them to my chest. The dying waves tickled my toes,  the rush of the waves soothed my ears,  the gentle breeze swept my hair across my face.

I felt the sand shift close to me. My eyes shut. I really didn't want company.

"I'm an asshole. "

I know. 

"Like a really big one."

You can say that again. 

"Probably the size of Kim Kardashian's asshole." 

What?

"Go away. " It was still cold, and I dug my toes into the moist sand. 

Brad took off his hoodie and wrapped put it around my shoulders. I disdainfully shrugged it off, and it fell back on the sand. Two seconds later, the hoodie was back on my shoulders.

I shot him a challenging look and rolled my shoulders again, wriggling out of it.

I couldn’t decipher the look on his face in the darkness. 

“I was thinking more Nikki Minaj,” I said impassively. “I know you’re sorry and all that. Just…get away from me.” 

His hand reached out for my arm, but halted mis way, his fingers curled.“I…Wait. There’s more. I’m terrible person, I know.  I was mad, but it was not at you,” His adams apple rose up and fell. “It was never at you. I’m just so damn fucked up. “ Instinctively, his hands rushed to his eyes, tiredly massaging his eyes.