December 7th, Year Unimportant

Jesse holds power over me. All the best things belong to other people. The kind of people that are careless, dropping what is valuable, unaware of its worth. Once dropped, they break, and no longer matter to anyone. Jeannine could not possibly know what she possesses with him by her side.

On one of those desperate nights, I hoped alcohol would erase my need for the world, my need for Jesse. The world saw that I was disintegrating. Things got out of hand, the way they do when you release all control just when you could have had it completely. I looked at Jesse, but he never turned to look at me. His friend Michael, wanting my attention, resorted to slapping me. It was the humiliation that stung. Heavy palms and long fingers on my cheek left nothing.

 
I am waiting for Oscar’s call, but I am not. It is lack of things to do that leads to a slight interest. One so minor, as not to count. He has received my letter, in which I inform him that I do not care for his affection. And while he says I am cruel, which is inexcusable paired with vulgar, he claims to love me as no other can. Five hours spent with each other, many months ago, and no more. That is all the history we have. Phone conversations and sloppy letters do not matter. Meaningless kisses and small bodies pressed against each other do not matter. I needed warmth to guard me against the cold, while he sought to make me a part of him. This is not my excuse, it is my reason. Oscar calls me an enigma, and I feel I do not want to be something cryptic, in need of someone to decipher my code. This thing that grows inside of me, reserved specifically for him is hate.

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December 7th, Year Unimportant

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