i want you to like me, too

by Sine Qua Non

so bad i need a cigarette. so bad. that bad.

it makes me crave for a double shot of scotch at four in the afternoon. it makes me wonder whether you’d join me for that double scotch or not. it makes me want to tear my hair out for wondering if you’ll join me for scotch or not. because the answer will most probably be that you won’t. or i’m not really sure. wait. i could find out.

(and yes i’ll do it and then i’m anticipating that the answer will make me want another double shot of scotch again. double double shots. bang. bang, bang.

so i said it out loud. and yes, you said no. just like what i thought you’d say. and do i feel bad? maybe.

yes. or i think i’ve anticipated the ill-feeling for so long that when i get so comfortable about what we have i remind myself that there’s absolutely nothing to be happy about the set-up that we have. based on the kind of fixation i have for you and my apparent inability to just leave things be and make most of what i have, what i get, what i won’t.

the past few weeks have been fine and dandy, really. i would sometimes fall into the delusion of thinking that you do want me in more ways than just a 10pm booty call. thinking that you do see me as beyond my body. that the conversations stimulate you as much and yet that you would crave for me too. i actually would sometimes think that i matter to you. and it was all pretty until i realize today that somebody matters to you more. yes of course again this is non-conclusive. in the sense that i could not really bring myself to ask you outright about these things. or that i jump into assumptions that may not really be as logical as it should be.

i don’t really know what i’m doing to myself now. torture, maybe. a sort of repetitive whacking of the head.

so you like that picture of her. and i don’t remember you ever liking any of mine.

it’s that petty. universe, whack me again please.

and when it dawned on me, this petty little truth, i realize that i have once again fallen into the trap of living in my imagined fantasies of what you and i have become, could be. apparently now, its what you and i could most probably never be.

or i don’t know really. i’m just trudging on with this heap of emotions i’ve been trying to sort out and make sense of. trying to spare myself the pain and yet i willingly walk into a roomful of traps.

i am at a loss. this is all making me depressed.

i need to figure out what to do. no, not to get you to like me. more to get over wanting you to like me too.

because if this drives me crazy right now, what would happen to me if i find out you never would?

ah, tear my heart out. tear, tear, tear.