Random Channel Surfing

The gentle summer breeze danced into the dark room, rustling the stack of papers she had so carefully piled on her dresser. And as she heard the papers rustle, she waited. Lying in her bed, nervously wrigining the sheet in her hands, she waited. And as she waited, she listened. Listened for any sign that he was coming home that night. That he wasn't avoiding her, their apartment, the "talk". She breathed in deep, filling her lungs to their capacity, until it felt as though they were on fire. She held the breath for a beat, feeling as two tears trickled down each cheek. Releasing the air, counting backwards in her head, she let out a sob in the end, realizing that he wasn't coming home tonight. She turned on her side, facing her wall, burying her head in the pillow. She tried to forget the shame she felt over falling for a man who was "too good for her". How could she have been so stupid? To think that he would ever care for her. To think

I know that days are made up of several moments and events, both good and bad, exciting and meh, so deeming any day as a "good" or "bad" day isn't correct. There's no such thing as a "bad day", but today's series of events make me so aggravated. I just wish I could press reset. Better yet, I wish I didn't care. Or maybe I should wish I wasn't as stubborn as I am. Regardless, today's been SHIT up until this point and I'm fairly certain that it won't get any better. I swear, I've been so fucking emo these past few days that I want to punch myself.

The first time she sees him outside of their apartment, she hides. She can't take seeing him outside of their domain. What would she say? What would he say? Just the sight of him makes the tireless butterflies in her stomach go into overdrive. Their nervous energy accelerating her heart rate, causing her to sweat. So, when she spies his 6'2" frame in the distance, his chestnut hair shining in the bright sun, she tugs at her friend Camille's arm and crouches close to the ground. There's no way he is seeing her out in public. She ignores Camille's glare and incessant nagging, as they crawl through the grass, making their way out of the park and onto the city's complicated metro system. Once they're seated in one of the cars, Camille rounds on her. Quirking an eyebrow in annoyance, she says one word: Spill.