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3am comes again

November 1, 2013

This time it found me watching educational videos about cuttlefish.

At 5am, I get a text from TLTL, asking me if I couldn’t sleep, that he saw I was awake and tweeting about cuttlefish or something. No, I told him. No sleep. The usual.

A few hours later, I’m at the mechanic with my car, and he’s texting; he fell asleep after he sent me the text at 5. How am I doing? What’s new?

We chat back and forth a little, I blame him jokingly for the work I’m getting done on my car. The conversation dwindles.

I dye my hair when I get home, watch some reruns on tv. No word from MTIA.

Eventually he gets in touch with me to apologize for flaking. I called it. So this is how it ends. I just feel like… that’s it. This one set of cancelled plans won’t get rescheduled, yadda yadda.

He tells me my promiscuity is adorable. I laugh at him. I tell him he is insane. We scrap plans for the day, more or less. We talk about a common favorite movie. I call him a flake.

I walk into the corner of an end table because I’m trying to text and walk at the same time and I cut my shin open. This seems about right. I don’t tell him about it. I let him think I’ve fallen asleep like I said I was going to. I did try to flirt my way into watching the aforementioned movie, but he said nothing.

Am I not direct enough? I’m pretty sure that’s not the issue.

Fuck this.

Fuck MTIA. Fuck TLTL. Fuck the photographer. Fuck all the other passing crushes, the cute guys in towns across the country (or in another country). Fuck the occasional cute girl. Fuck. It. All.

My shin is killing me.

On the plus side, my ex told me I can have his acoustic electric guitar. He doesn’t really play it. I might.

I feel ridiculously sad right now. I’m just never enough.

Retraction. We actually decided to reschedule for another day/evening committed to watching movies and cuddling and nuzzling. We’ll see if that falls through. Hrm.


From → fiction, rants

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