She said my taste in music sucked, and I almost believed her. I mean, not everyone is still as devoted to heavy metal as they used to be, but perhaps she took it just a tad too far, like she takes everything. Drama queen is the label I would put on her if I did that sort of thing, labeling others as if they were packages of meat. But maybe she would like that, being labeled dramatic for the whole world to see, or at least for our little corner of the whole world to see. I used to think I knew her and what she would think in any situation, but that changed last week at school. I’m still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“It’s not that you’re lame, but my friends think you’re lame,” she told me yesterday. Not “my other friends,” but “my friends,” like I’m not one of them.
“Someday you’ll understand why I’m doing what I’m doing,” she said last week when it all started, cryptic as always.
“There are cool people, and then there’s you,” she texted me this morning, and I haven’t responded yet.
Come to think of it, I never respond to her because she never leaves spacing within her array of words for me to break in. Even when she texts, if I respond I have no clue if she even reads it. I often ask myself, especially lately, why I still hang around with her, you know, when others aren’t looking. Maybe because when others aren’t around she can be different. Notice I used the word “can” because it doesn’t always happen. Case in point: the text she sent this morning. Of course who am I to know if she wasn’t with others when she typed it into her phone? Odds are she actually wasn’t alone because she’s never alone.
Except of course when she’s with me, because I let her do what she wants and when she wants, the only one who does it so far as I can tell. Maybe that’s why she still hangs around with me in secret, and also probably why I let her treat me the way she does. Well, that and she lets me feel her up. That helps too. But I’m getting off topic. I know I’m not the coolest kid around. Hell, I still wear a bomber jacket and quote Shakespeare in my spare time, but at least I’m authentic. All of her “new” friends are so cookie cutter it would be laughable… if any of them actually understood what that means. And I don’t point it out because I don’t get words in edgewise.
“I let you touch me because we’re close like that,” she said, even though we aren’t really close like that. And she never touches me either, which would deny her words in and of itself.
“There are times when I wish things were different,” she told me, and I think I know the times she means, like all the times we used to have before she got accepted into the cool kid circle last week in school. And I knew those times would go, but I didn’t realize they would disappear so soon.
“Believe me, if I had a choice things would change,” she said. Of course they have changed, and she doesn’t even know how it makes me feel, how defeated I am inside because of it.
And yet, when we’re alone, when all there is between us is as thin as a sheet, when we’re as close as Romeo & Juliet, that’s when I realize my love for her isn’t meant to last, that if it can’t sustain an emergence into the light then it’s not reciprocated and it means nothing. And for all that she says, it will never change unless her actions start doing the talking. I put in my beats by dre headphones while I sit on my bed and realize this, letting the soothing sounds of Megadeth take me away. And waiting for her to bring me back.