What if you didn't leave, what if we worked through this shit?
She leaned back against the wall and lit a cigarette. The silence sweat between them as he waited for her to answer. He reached out for her waist but she backed away. She exhaled, blowing tiny rings into the evening air.
I don't think it'll matter. I don't want to do "work," I'm already stressed enough. This used to be a safe space. Now, you just annoy the fuck out of me
Why? Because I pull you out of that goddamned hole you insist on living in?
Yeah, without thinking of the consequences.
He scoffs.
I'm broken in there, how much more broken do you want me to be?
I don't care. Look at me. I'm standing here. I've been standing here. Do you think this shit is easy for me, that you're the only one with scars? But I don't fucking run away from you. I showed them to you. That wasn't fucking easy.
Well good for fucking you.
I'm just saying, try...
I did! And it wasn't enough. I'm not what you need
You silly fuck, you don't get to decide that. You don't get a say in what I need. The only thing I need from you is honesty and to be yourself.
I'm trying...I'm barely holding shit together
Yeah, well, I know why you leave and I know why I annoy you. Your masks don't work here. They never did. And it's fucking terrifying.
She puts her cigarette out and leans against the railing. The streetlight frames her face as a single tear strolls down her cheek. She wipes it away before he can see it and digs her nails into the palms of her hands.
I've always been honest with you, it's just too bad you couldn't always see it. You're the only one ever told everything to.
So, then, why do you always keep me at a distance?
Because you'll want to consume me, the more I let you in.
I don't think that's how that works. I just want to know you, I just want to be in your life
You know me better than anyone
Why do you say that kind of shit to me?
Because it's true...
Then it should matter for something. You always say that the fact you still love me, or miss me, or the things we used to do isn't the point but you fail to explain what the fucking point is. It seems to me that those things are the whole goddammed point. What else matters?
A lot
Like..
Like...capacity. Like, we've talked about this.
No, we haven't. We always stop short. Every fucking time.
Look, I have to go.
Fine, text me later.
Ok, fine.
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