Better to have loved and lost...

Now a girl is here. I sucked tequila out of her belly button. We talk about our semesters. We do not talk about the tequila. She brings a hookah. She asks me to choose the sheesh.  I choose poorly. She is tall and leggy and blond. I do not like her. I want her to like me so I can deny her, so I can tell her why I am better than her.

Three years ago I sat nervous and shaking in a dimly lit bedroom. She crawled close to me. Trying to make sure I was alright. We started the awkward process. Our clothes came off, our fingers barely let go and we gave trust over to each other.

I was in high school. At four AM we said goodnight. We held our landline phones between head and pillow. Miles apart but seconds away we muttered our sentiments and shared a love immature. We said goodnight and fell asleep with visions of sugary-each-others dancing in our heads.

She cries in my twin bed. It will be ok, I promise. You deserve better than me, I swear. I keep her coming over. I need her more than she needs me, but I do my best to keep her from realizing that. She is the only person who can save me, or so I believe. She is the only person who loves me, myself included. Her love offends me.

I told her I didn't feel that way anymore. I lied to me more than her. I told the other her it would be ok. I lied to her more than me. I lied and I lied and I keep lying. One day, I will tell the truth. I probably won't believe it, though.