“i had my make-up in one hand and a trail of dresses in the other, said “listen, you have to help me choose what to wear tonight.” he told me i looked beautiful in every single dress i tried, and half way through i’d realised i’d forgotten my shoes. and so there i was, sobbing over the tiniest thing and refusing to let him look at me because i look god awful when i cry, all puffy eyes and red lines. “come here, come here, i’ll close my eyes.” he said, so i reached my hands up to cover his eyes with my hands and he took me in, held me, wrapping his arms all the way around my waist and pulling me onto his lap. it was instinctual, i buried my head into his shoulder, sniffling away like a child with a lost doll. “i don’t know about you, but you’re still the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen either way.“ i loved him before then, but never had i had the courage to say it until that moment. i love him still, even. he is the best thing i ever knew.”
she had this habit of making people fall in love with her wherever she went. i had seen boys lay next to her at parties in campbeds and not try a single thing because she could talk till her throat bled and that’s all she did. she had small hands, people would always tell her. always putting their hands against hers. always telling her she was warm. “warm hands, cold heart,” she’d say.
she was telling me about the first time she fell in love, said it was with a boy who didn’t know how. said that since then, all her love has been hiding inside of her and one time when she was drunk she held hands with a boy all night for no other reason than that they were both too stubborn to admit how lonely they were. another night she spoke about video games under the influence of vodka with, how she describes, “the most enticing and wonderful boy she had ever met.”
maybe it was the eyes. maybe she was some sort of backwards medusa. except to the boy she loved, though. she loved him as much as a person could love another person. it was a shame, really. he couldn’t love her.
“and he says he’s sorry, but the sky only apologises after the storm has shattered the windows, after the house is already flooded and the ground is too busy trying to soak up whats left of the rain to care about supporting your feet. and he says he’s sorry, that he’ll still love you if you’re broken.”
