i am an idiot. i put myself into situations that i know are going to hurt and when they do, i sit around, hugging the pain and wishing it were different.
it’s all flash telling. fast, but not fiction. i had something i didn’t want and i knew he would. so what do i do?
i offer it.
the entire effort, nothing but glass shards. me, holding it out with a smile. him, questioning it; laying steel traps of ill intent around me.
me, idiot, grit my teeth and tell him that his fears are his own to manage, not mine. take it or no. if not, i’ll throw it away. no matter. just trying to be nice.
oh, well, in that case, no strings, why sure, he’ll take it.
the pattern, repeating. i see it. saw it. knew it. why did i think maybe i was mistaken?
waiting in the parking lot with it in the back of the car. why am i here? what am i trying to prove? anything? anything at all?
he arrives. makes small talk. i hand it to him. i want no small talk. i can see he is smirking. i realize then what an idiot i really am.
it hurts. i can’t breathe. i refuse to cry in front of him. i will not. i will not.
my whole body is tense with all the ‘wish i could run’ that i won’t let him see. he won’t get to see it hurt anymore.
why did i ever think this was a good idea? why did i ever think it would be different?
he asks me why i’m so stiff, formal. that smirk. i’m too hurt to be angry.
because i’m an idiot, that’s why.
he leaves. never looks back. dialing a number as he walks to the bus stop. he’d rather take the bus than let me drive him there.
yeah. i am that big an idiot, too.
he’s getting on the bus as i’m blowing my nose, wiping my eyes. safely ignored, left behind.
he sends me a text message. distant thank you. more distant each second. i do not reply.
i remember when i met him. i remember thinking anything was possible. i remember thinking that gleam was a gentler humor.
i needed to prove to myself that i was not letting my fears impede. i needed to see it clearly.
you’d think that would be harder with swollen eyes, but it is not.
the things meant nothing to me. i could have thrown them away. maybe i should have. but i needed to know.
no doubt left. i’m an idiot. but at least now, i know enough to avoid being his idiot.
small victories.