bitter? nah

i spent the weekend at adam's. he was so different somehow. well, i know exactly how. he was being so affectionate at times. not all the time. saying nice things and making gestures like moving hair out of my face holding onto me like i was sand slipping through his fingers. but if it's not natural then it's not real, is it?

is it?

i can't look at him. i can't let him see me. and i don't know why. every time i open my eyes my heart jumps when i see him staring right back. but he's my boyfriend. what's wrong with me?

we were in a club last night and we met up with some friends. his, obviously. when i'm sitting talking with them i feel as though i'm dragging the mood of everyone in the building down with me. i've got a smile plastered on my face for the entire duration of the conversation and i laugh in perfect timing over and over. i change my expression now and then; the smile remaining though. if it starts to hurt i go for a toilet break and the second i'm out of sight i'm some miserable looking girl walking up the stairs.

what the fuck could possibly be so wrong with her?

i practice some smiles and angles in the mirror while putting on some red lipstick. and i look into my own eyes and wonder how he can't see it when it's right in front of his face every time i look at him. then it's back down the stairs and on with the smile.

he's bored standing with me by the fire exit so i tell him he can go and play with his friends if he likes. while i sit at the back of the club on a chair by myself i try and find him on the dance floor, but i can't. even after forty five minutes i can't. i start wondering why he gets so bored with me all the time. he's the only person i really talk to now. he's basically my only friend now. and i bore him.

while i was looking for him on the dance floor i suddenly thought: he'd be better off single. and he would. i don't understand why i'm so miserable with him? it actually aches somewhere in my chest when i think about us. and i wish i knew why.

he dropped me off at the train station at ten past eight tonight. i had more than twenty minutes to wait for my train. he got my bag out of the boot and we said goodbye. i started crying before i was even inside. would it have been so difficult to have parked the car just ten metres away and have seen me onto my train? what was the rush to get me out of your house so fast? fucking top gear?

i hate sounding like this. i roll my eyes at people who go on like this. but it's little stupid blows and disappointments like this that bring me right down to the ground all the time. if he actually felt the way he acted (some of the time) this weekend then he wouldn't have said he wasn't going to fall asleep on me on friday - and then fall asleep on me on friday. he wouldn't have left me sitting alone on that stool watching the dance floor for forty five minutes on saturday. he wouldn't have left me downstairs watching tv in his living room on sunday afternoon while he sat at his computer browsing for car parts and opening his weekly newsletter. he wouldn't have fallen asleep for the last hour and a half we had together before he took me to the station, leaving me wide awake on the edge of his bed watching the never ending fucking story on tv. he wouldn't have put me on the 8:31 train home.

i don't believe the nice things you say to me. you don't make them sound real. like you don't even believe them yourself. what proportion of the feelings that prompted you to say you loved me the first time came from lust?

that night in Berlin happened because of what you told me about the party you went to. while you were on your way to that party i was on my way home from hospital. i got scared. i thought i was going to lose you soon.

do you hate me now?