I know we were, and are, nothing and in over a year I asked for nothing more than the time we could spend together; I looked for you, I insisted, I understood, I forgave ... I repeated...
and suddenly... BOOM!
The messages are over, the desire..., the suggestive emojis, the fomo for GoT, the references to the Simpsons, the “send chelas” as a pretext, the “I must never ever look bad to you”and the “atsions” that would reflect it never arrived... Not a single fucking message on my birthday.
Did I do something wrong? Is my time up? Why ask if I should have noticed it?
See posts by and to others; Details to others you never had with me or as a friend.
The minimum interest to answer me ”yes or no” the last time I invited mezcals to my apartment.
One year and I'm just one more...
One more “friend”, one more “groupie”, one more account in your social networks, one more brunette...
Well, fuck it!
Make it another one!
The one who does everything to get your attention and you ignore her comments,
The one who is new to your Instagram and likes everything;
The one who's been in love with you for years or the one you did give a t-shirt to....
The one you took a selfie with that deserved a heart; The one that doesn't peel you,
The brunette who has contacts, the pretty one... What do I know?
The one you want.
Make it another one!
In the end I understood that it was not going to be ESA.
In the end I am always one more and you one less.
In the end I am the woman you want but not the one you fall in love with.
Photography by Missy Prince
I write because I have nowhere else to run... Don't let me fall in love with you because I will write about it and you will live forever.