All it took was a single phone call to freeze my brain, make me break out in cold sweat, accelerate my heartbeat in fatal thuds, and make me powerless to produce coherent speech.
Hell, I wasn’t even capable of saying one damn hello. I just stared at my mobile as it rang out The Verve’s Bittersweet Symphony. After what seemed like six rings, I pressed END.
I guess it’s not yet time for us to talk. For you, there is nothing to talk about. For me, I thought there was nothing to dig up, expose, and touch on until I found myself wondering about gray areas in my life that I didn’t want to admit hold relevance to what I have become. Gray areas that I tried to analyze on my own, but just couldn’t. God knows I don’t like relying on people to solve my own puzzles. I walk solo for a purpose. I loved you but never depended my happiness on you and I’m most definitely not going to start now. I don’t need you, only your assistance. And love is different from high regard.
I know that you’re not exactly in the best of moods now, I’m sorry if I can’t be of help and I seem to be adding on to complications. I’m glad you took time to call to check how I am. I guess I gave you the impression that I’m undergoing something cataclysmic. I’m not. At least, not yet.
There’s a reason why I never hated you even if you hurt me in more ways than all of them combined. I guess part of why I want to talk to you to is find out what that reason is.
I hope that you get out of the shithole you are in soon so I could be less guilty of getting some of your exclusive, precious time. By then, I hope to be capable of producing coherent speech, because I wouldn’t have the END button for my escape once we decide to eventually sit down and talk.
listening to: Stereophonics – Maybe Tomorrow