After arguing with me about how he didn’t want to talk and how he was telling me I was an asshole when in fact he was acting like a fucking asshole, I left. And it felt embarrassing, there were people that we both knew in there.
And I left. And hid in the bathroom, trying to stop myself from crying in the stall. Because I love that boy and he’s ruining everything by acting like a damn idiot.Me rubbing my neck, telling myself to shush, saying it’s gonna be okay. Quieting myself so I could go onto the next part of my day, which I was running ten minutes late for. Reading to myself to calm my eyes down. Trying to walk with my head held high despite my red nose. Trying to talk too enthusiatically to the next person I encounter in order to lift my spirits and to make it look like I wasn’t crying in the bathroom five minutes before.
About an hour and a half later he came to where I was and walked in. And right now, it feels like I’m imagining this, but I saw him with his orange backpack and his tallness. I don’t know if he saw me, sitting in the back, but I saw him and looked at him for a second. I didn’t wave, I just looked. And then he left.
I feel sad about this. And I feel mad as hell at him, messing up my books and telling me he had to do his fucking homework. That he told me that he didn’t want me to touch him, that I was too close. That he didn’t want to talk to me. Him undermining the university, a top university, that I got accepted to, when in fact, he is a fucking dumbass. That he said I keep starting shit. Him saying I can be mad for two years, but he can’t be mad for four days? Of how I bring up things from 8 months ago. Me saying this is stupid. Him saying I was a stupid person. Me saying he was stupid. Me laughing out loud in spite of him being mad at me being mad.In the beginning when he was sitting with his friends and I was looking for him. His friend said ‘uh-oh” when I approached. Me asking him if he got my text, him saying he never got it. Us walking away from his friends and him. Me telling him at the computer I wanted to talk, me stopping his pen from writing on his paper. Me asking how long he’s gonna be mad for? Him saying for forever. Him saying I was making it worse for myself because I could’t give him space. Me gripping the pen, him pulling the pen back. The pen breaking. Him telling me he doesn’t want my pen. Him saying to just go.
And now he made it worse. And fuck, I was trying. And now, I’m not gonna try at all anymore.
We’re supposed to get back together and he’s fucking ruining it like a fucking dumbass.
And he told me I was being a fucking asshole, when he was acting like one the entire fucking time in front of people that we know, in front of people I don’t particularly like.
Fuck this. I’m not gonna sit here, being mad. I know I cant be mad at him forever, but I think I’m just gonna spend the next while pretending he doesn’t exist.
That damn idiot.