(no subject)
i feel like smashing his beautiful face with a baseball bat.
then kissing it and saying sorry.
then smashing it all over again.
the papers were shaking in his hand and he kept smoking newports and he wouldn't even look me in the eyes. and that's when i knew that six months had culminated in this one guilty, disgusting moment. the climax of our saga. there it was. in a stupid red truck parked on sixth and park with our picture covering his speedometer and mascara on my face; a look of defeat on his. i thought our climax had occured long ago, but i guess his bag is just full of tricks.
i used to believe the climax was the point in which things had become so good, they had nothing to do but worsen.
i now know that the climax is in fact the moment in which the story turns. our story has definetely turned now. he says the decision is mine, but i never requested the upper hand.
i have never wanted so much distance from one single person in my entire life.