This is fiction
What I would imagine a chance meeting between my ex and I would be like:
“Have you come to pour salt into my wounds,” I gently remarked with a slight touch of callousness.
“No . . .” Her eyes began to glaze a little at my words as she shamefully stared at the ground. Ironically, she was wearing the same outfit she had on when we had last spoke. A problem she had during our relationship. Same stupid hat, which she actually looked adorable in, and sweatshirt almost everyday. The same, everything about her looked the same. Dull, actually. Not at first, but if you eat a gourmet steak dinner everyday, eventually you just won’t want steak anymore. But I would have settled for the steak and eventually eating all that meat would have made me sick. And it did, actually, dating her I mean.
“Shit, Erin . . . that was mean, I’m sorry.” As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to take them back for she was the one who owed me an apology. She looked up at me stronger now, but not sincerely. She was just wearing her tough guise, that also made me sick. God, I almost pitied her just then. She’s not tough. Tough people aren’t emotionally wrecked to the point where they can’t even let the one they claim to love in. I felt stronger than her at that moment because I was the one who took the risk while dating her.
“Kayleigh, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. It was wrong, and I’m so sorry,’ she said. Well, actually she didn’t say those words, but I wanted her too. Instead she said, “I got your letter, and I do want to be friends.” What a dumb bitch, I thought. Friends, well, how can I be friends with you if I can’t forgive you. An apology needs to be made before someone can actually forgive a dumb bitch for breaking a heart. At that point I began to cry. Although I was a little embarrassed, I realized that I have every right to cry and showing emotion isn’t weak. Despite what she believed for herself. With my first tear came her disgusting sympathetic face.
“Are you even sorry?” I half sobbed, “Do you even care? I can’t be friends with you unless the answers to those questions are yes.” As she stared blankly through me I stood up, gathered my coat, and left our mutual friend’s house. Resigning myself to give up on any pathetic resemblance of a friendship that she was barely capable of offering.
“Have you come to pour salt into my wounds,” I gently remarked with a slight touch of callousness.
“No . . .” Her eyes began to glaze a little at my words as she shamefully stared at the ground. Ironically, she was wearing the same outfit she had on when we had last spoke. A problem she had during our relationship. Same stupid hat, which she actually looked adorable in, and sweatshirt almost everyday. The same, everything about her looked the same. Dull, actually. Not at first, but if you eat a gourmet steak dinner everyday, eventually you just won’t want steak anymore. But I would have settled for the steak and eventually eating all that meat would have made me sick. And it did, actually, dating her I mean.
“Shit, Erin . . . that was mean, I’m sorry.” As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to take them back for she was the one who owed me an apology. She looked up at me stronger now, but not sincerely. She was just wearing her tough guise, that also made me sick. God, I almost pitied her just then. She’s not tough. Tough people aren’t emotionally wrecked to the point where they can’t even let the one they claim to love in. I felt stronger than her at that moment because I was the one who took the risk while dating her.
“Kayleigh, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. It was wrong, and I’m so sorry,’ she said. Well, actually she didn’t say those words, but I wanted her too. Instead she said, “I got your letter, and I do want to be friends.” What a dumb bitch, I thought. Friends, well, how can I be friends with you if I can’t forgive you. An apology needs to be made before someone can actually forgive a dumb bitch for breaking a heart. At that point I began to cry. Although I was a little embarrassed, I realized that I have every right to cry and showing emotion isn’t weak. Despite what she believed for herself. With my first tear came her disgusting sympathetic face.
“Are you even sorry?” I half sobbed, “Do you even care? I can’t be friends with you unless the answers to those questions are yes.” As she stared blankly through me I stood up, gathered my coat, and left our mutual friend’s house. Resigning myself to give up on any pathetic resemblance of a friendship that she was barely capable of offering.