Flawed

3.

A boy I liked once asked me to tell him five things I liked about myself.

I don't think I had ever been more caught of guard before that day because I couldn't at that second think of one thing I liked about myself.

I remember wondering if I'd be able to think of something if I had a little more time.

It would have been much more easier if he had asked me about the things I hated about myself. I'd have mentioned a million things and he'd have had the chance to counter everything I said with sweet words shrouded in lies, and I'd have fallen for it, at least in that moment.

I'd have let him take my heart and my body and use me in any way he wished.

Till he was filled he could have filled me with his sweet lies, attention and company, and I'd have been happy, at least within that time. I guess I'm just needy like that.

I remember looking at him like he just asked me how to build a rocket ship in 2 days.

I remember smiling and asking him the same question he had asked me, since I didn't have an answer.

I remember how he Immediately responded like he had crammed and stored the answer in a little paper at the back of his mind.

I remember wondering if that was how everyone was, if that was what everyone did.

I remember thinking about all the things I hate about myself. I probably have that stored somewhere in a little paper, right in the middle of my mind.

One of the things I hate about myself is my tears, because It is uncontrollable and has the worst timing.

It comes when I think I'm happy and when I say I'm fine; It comes when I'm mid argument and need to be strong and when I'm trying to explain why I'm not the bad person; It comes when I'm left shaking after an horrible event and doesn't stop even when I beg it to.

It doesn't come at the end of a sad book or at the hear of a sad news, but when it does come, I feel like It'd drown me in it's ocean, but It never does. That's why I hate it.

______________________________________

It's a dry day. The few days I'm allowed to be consumed by the illusion of happiness that comes now and again.

I wore the prettiest biggest shirt I could find in my wardrobe and paired it with my favourite pants.

I washed my face, lined my lips and styled my hair in different ways till I was fulfilled with the way it looked.

Staring at the mirror's reflection, I almost felt pretty for a second, but the subconscious reminder of the rotten pile I actually am wouldn't let that happen, not ever.

"Inez" I turned back, immediately recognizing Auriel's voice. She had a blinding bright smile on her face - and I thought I was the happy one today.

I didn't plug my ears today, I would have succeeded in ignoring her and going my merry way, I thought as I replicated her smile the best way I could.

"Hey Auriel, what's up?"

"Well I'm heading out and I don't think I'd be coming back today, so you'd need to take your key with you" She said holding out my key to the room.

"Okay thanks. Have fun"

"I will, say hi to Orson for me" She said skipping back to the room with a hum in her step. I guess I'm not really happy after all, at least not like her.
______________________________________

"Do you believe in fate?" I ask Orson, taking another swing from the bottle.

We were at Chug, our favorite bar. It is our little tradition to come here every Friday to let off steam after a stressful week and catch up on the events in each others life. Deep down we knew it was just a plot to get drunk together and see if we can somehow find joy.

"Ugh!! Nez, you shouldn't be sane enough to think about shit like that. Here drink some more" He said pushing the bottle in my hand to my lips.

Orson was my only friend in school. He knew that, and I knew he liked that. It has been like that since middle school. I guess that's why he never made a move on Auriel, even though he knew she was obsessed with him.

He is right, the drink is meant to silence the intrusive flow of thoughts in my head. But it won't work. Not while he's here and our eyes are locked. Not while I'm wondering what is going through his head and what he thinks of me. Not while I'm wondering if we would have ever locked eyes for this long had I not come out today. No, the drinks won't work today.

Noticing the obvious shift of attention, Orson turns around curious as to what has caught my attention and kept it for this long. As usual, he rolls his eyes when it is met with the dark green eyes of Caspian. At this point, it's either a reflex or a superpower to get irritated that fast at the sight of someone.

"Of course it's him, and that's our cue" Orson said standing up and dragging me out of my seat and out of the bar.

He never liked Caspian. He never told me why.

I believe in fate. It may operate in all the wrong ways to us, but it always works for a reason.

I mean if my coffee did not slip from my hand and pour away, and I didn't have to spend those extra minutes at the cafe that particular day, and if I had not walked out at that particular time, I may have not seen him for the first time, I may have not known that he smells like lavender, we may not have locked eyes for the first time.

If I had not craved pizza on that day, and if I had not thrown a tantrum until my mum had no choice but to take me out at that hour to get it, she may have not seen him with another woman.

Maybe they'd have still been together, maybe she'd have been happier, maybe she'd have had the heart to look at me with a little less hatred beaming in her eyes. Maybe I'd have been happier too.

It was all my fault.