“You don’t know what it’s like…to be alone, to be lonely, sometimes it’s both.”
She shoves her hand in her pocket. I look away. I know she’s been biting her nails again and I see her lips too. She searches for me from across the room and when my eyes meet her’s; she smiles. We know I know and so, she takes out her hand from her pocket.
“It’s not that bad.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Why do you agree with everything I say?”
“There you go again, asking a question instead of answering one. You are going to tell me that it’s about me and not you, but I know you. See, I’ve known you since form one and you are still as tiny as you were. Remember those days?”
“Yes and you were bolder then.”
“Well, you have no idea. Sometimes I want to claw his eyes out. He doesn’t know it and if he does, he is doing a good job at pretending that he doesn’t. I am tired, all these thoughts, if I leave then people would wonder why? If I stay they’ll say were are such a lovely couple, but there is nothing lovely about being lonely when you’re with the one you love.”
I pour myself another cup of coffee. She curls up in the sofa and smiles. Her eyes die with every stretch of her lips but I don’t tell her this. I don’t tell her that she needs to eat to bring color to her cheeks. I don’t tell her…
I am a coward because I know what it’s like to magnify one offense such that you are in season three of deception yet the one you love has no clue of their offense.
Unvoiced expectations= Unmet expectations= Frustration
“You are the only person I know who takes a whole flask of coffee and can still sleep for seven hours. How do you do that?”
“I’m a cat, sleep is very important.”
“No, you are a writer and a good one. Well, the only friend I know who writes. I hate this.”
“What exactly do you hate?”
“Being lonely and alone in my loneliness.”
I look at her and smile because she has said the very thing she knows is weighing her down. She smiles and before I nod in agreement, she cries…and I for one, let her.