Most Of The Time

I remember so vividly those 13 minutes of staring on that warm summer evening. I don't know what you were thinking, and I probably never will. You probably don't remember, anyways. I was wearing pajamas. You'd wrangled me in to go see a local showcase after rehearsal one day. I think it was the first time I'd ever driven with you, but I could be mistaken. I memorized those eyes; those serious, ice blue eyes. You had the power to stare at my soul.

The truth is, I distanced you. I did whatever I could to make you leave me, cuz I couldn't handle being with you. The fact that my feelings for you weren't returned, ruined me, and I destroyed whatever I could. That's why we're how we are. Because I'm an unstable, self-destructive girl, who couldn't handle a broken heart. And you couldn't handle breaking my heart, that's why it was so hard. As much as you couldn't stand me whining and screaming and yelling, you couldn't stand being the cause of it more, so you stayed to try and fix it. But I never let you fix it. I shut you out. I destroyed your spirit.

I did whatever I could to make you feel bad, because I wanted you to feel my pain, my suffering. I don't know who I was. I'm so sorry you had to see that side of me. I've never been genuinely happy for you. I just realized that. I wonder if you've ever been genuinely happy for me.

You and I, we like to salvage. And that's why every 3 weeks, we contact each other. Neither of us can stand to be the bad guy, even if it's in a friendship that's been doomed for 2 years now. I can't remember if I like talking to you.

I'm trying to figure out if this was a mistake or not...