“I type a text but then I nevermind that-

I feel these feelings but you never mind that-“

 

 

Story of my life?

 

I’m the one that this tearful message came pinging to.

However, I’d rather be the one sending this tragic message to someone, in this case.

 

That’s what comes out of falling for me, I suppose.

Only, this time I feel like an unfair, sadistic fiend sending the guy a nevermind.

He is- was by now, probably- my best friend after all.

I can’t help not being in love with him.

I have no capacity for love.

Not any more, at least.

I feel like such a terrible friend but I also can’t bring myself to lie to him.

 

He’s a cute boy, no doubt. It’s one of the reasons I fell for his offer of friendship. He could make anything sound funny, his dimples showed up at the most appropriate moments and he happened to be a class A nerd (which I discovered by total accident) in secret, which worked well for him- he had all these cute girls hanging by a thread.  

 

I have a strong predilection to hate such boys.

 

I hated him too, but very impersonally- he stood for everything I hated in a boy.

He’s a smart, very talented boy that uses people to his advantage- or so I thought. How could one guy otherwise get so many people to like him?

I was wrong and he’s genuinely warm and makes you feel special.

He’s a witty, humble human being with charisma that could make you jealous.

Of him and the recipients of his charismatic behaviour.

I wonder now, why I accepted to hate him so blindly? It’s so much more difficult to love and accept, but oh so rewarding.

I hope he doesn’t hate me. Ever.

I really do.

His kind of hatred is one I cannot stand to watch. He becomes self destructive.

He knows where it’ll hurt most.

He drinks and drinks, then walks into lampposts and ditches in broad daylight.

He meets friends and goes out of his way to piss them off.

He drives rashly and often falls off his Ducati that his parents don’t approve of.

He is a ticking time bomb- he explodes and his perfect world does, too.

 

Why?

I never said to was easy to be his best friend.

It’s just something you can never let go of once you get a taste of it.

 

I met him on a Friday evening in the library when I was busy finishing up an overdue assignment.

I was surprised to see him there even. He seemed very at ease in the dark, narrow paths between shelves.

Why wasn’t someone like him off partying with friends? Or doing whatever was ‘fun’ these days?

He helped me a lot that evening. I was struck by the amount of concentration he accorded his work- something extraordinary and deeply inspiring.

I finished my assignment at a faster than usual pace- I didn’t want to be distracted in that environment. The quiet silence and sound of scratching pen kept us company till late. The library had to shut and we quietly sat down outside, working more.

I couldn’t be remotely jubilant that my assignment was completed, however.

It meant no more comfortable silence. No more pressure to talk nor the observation in proximity.

He quietly left as I did but offered to go out for some food. I was hesitant because his reputation far preceded his person.

That night I realized the folly of my judgement.

He was good company and a nerd beyond compare, both appealing to me. He didn’t need to try but his mere presence meant that other girls in the cafe kept stealing glances at us, hoping that nothing good came out of that night.

 

It was the best of times and the worst of times after that.

I hadn’t felt so comfortable in dealing with a guy in so long that I refused to look at our genders as a divisive agent. It meant I wouldn’t accept any dates from others, never talk beyond genial chit chat with anyone else.

It was a highly symbiotic relationship. As with any, the balance of it slowly tipped when he started seeing other girls.

His fixation with them was very temporary and they’d soon be old news before I’d even heard of them. They didn’t like me all that much because I was a little too close to their object of affection. I became the villainous piece in the game. His thick layer of charisma simply wouldn’t allow the others to see beyond that.

I didn’t know why he kept playing with people and in response, he took to the bottle. However much I wanted to chastise his behaviour, he needed to get back to normal.

He was back to “normal” very soon but I was wary.

The relationship was never the same. I was tentative, he was brash. I was hopeful, he was in low spirits.

I didn’t like this new equation so I broke things off.

We were not close friends- just meme sharing, small talk kind of friends.


Then I got that horrendous text. I was a popular lyric, I appreciated the song but that’s no bait.

I had no love.

I had patience, and care and affection in a friendly sense.

I couldn’t just agree to his feelings when I couldn’t reciprocate.

Right?

 

Yes.

 

 

The next time he sent me a message, I didn’t reply. I couldn’t.

It was more lyrics of that song.

I saw him a few weeks later, sober like my earliest memories of him.

He had a pretty girl so much in a trance, I felt something flutter inside me.

I was her once too, probably.

The flutter was nothing. Nothing to do with my heart, obviously.

He saw and waved to me, asked me if I was okay.

I had things to say about that. My mind started whirling with all the things I wanted to tell him, the reasons I wasn’t okay.  

I took a deep breath, to myself said, “Nevermind”- and continued walking leaving my feelings and the question he’d posed hanging in the chilly autumn air.

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