Ignorance is...?

I don't think I have ever nor will I ever again experience pain like this one--sucking at my chest, collapsing my lungs, shredding my veins. My voice disappears, and my balance wavers, so I try to hold myself up against the door frame, but I can't look away. It's awful but morbid, so I just keep staring, watching, until my eyes blur with tears.

The man I thought I loved, kissing my best friend.

My mind reels so desperately I can't quite put two and two together, but I force myself to do so because I'm sickly masochistic, and somehow I will find a way to blame myself for this.

Instead of feeling enraged, I despair because I realize neither is at fault- I am. She had no idea we were dating; I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want our relationship to be broadcast to the world and subject to the spotlight. He must've resented me for that, and she's so beautiful and outgoing and their chemistry is pretty outstanding while I'm-

at fault. This is my fault. I'm ugly and boring; how could I have possibly even imagined holding his attention? I'm stupid, even more so for believing such a lie.

For what feels like minutes but must only be seconds, she returns his kiss; neither is aware of my presence in the door way, so I back away quietly, trying to smile, to hold it together. No one has to know that I saw this. I'll casually tell him our relationship isn't going to work out, but then I'll say I bet she'd be interested. I'll pretend like I have no idea about their feelings for each other, like I'm giving chipper advice.

But I'll always remember how I fell for it, how I believed I could ever exceed her. She looks even greater when she's next to me; I'm just her foil, her means of comparison. They should be together; I shouldn't have interfered.

Ok, then. Instead of waiting to break up with him, I'll get it over with now. I stomp back down the stairs, singing, making a lot of noise so they know I'm here. Now they're just talking, but I can see now that their body language is more intimate than they realize. I call him over to speak in private, tell him exactly what I said I'd say.

I walk away, but before I leave I hear, "Well, I guess this was meant to be then, wasn't it?" followed by what I guess is another kiss.

I try to avoid letting the door hit me on the way out.

A Glimpse Into A World Unlike My Own

I keep thinking about how you told me that he was in a knife fight recently. I keep thinking about how incredibly interesting that would have been, whether I was a spectator or another fighter. Then I start wondering why it happened, how often it happens, where do you keep the knife, how many times have you gripped it only to realize you were not in danger, or how many times didn't you swing it fast enough.

And what about you, the girl who spends what seems like hours applying makeup. Don't you know you are beautiful, with or without the makeup? I wonder what your wound is, what you're trying to hide or make up for with glorious shades and blushes.

Fascinating. I hope to meet you both again; I'd like to learn more. My observations may not be keen, in which case I want to ask that you clarify, but these words stick between my teeth, and they refuse to exit my imagination and enter reality.

That Which Was Once Resilent Becomes Softened

First time seeing you again in however many years. (I kept saying four, but I think you're right, maybe it was three. Then again, if I was hittin' up summer college stuff, maybe it was only two.) You're definitely the same. Well, there are some changes, some differences, but our personalities have remained in tact. It was like we picked up right where we left off, something that both surprised me yet didn't.

Yeah, I'll probably come over tomorrow. I'm glad this is working out.