Perspective

Chapter Eighteen

"There's no comfort in the truth
Pain is all you'll find"

***

Work was bullshit, yet again.

And thanks to smirky I spent the rest of my shift plagued with possibilities going through my head.

Did he do it on purpose?

Did he tell me to figure out why he was behaving the way he was just so I would think about him?

But that makes no sense, why would he give a shit if I think about him?

I've been in this mental circle jerk for hours now, and it didn't stop when I got home.

Even when Frankie dropped off gizmo and I resumed my position on the couch watching re-runs of the office; trying to quiet my brain down it didn't work.

Green eyes.

Stupid smirk.

Bullshit dimple.

Curly headed fuck.

Round and round in circles it went.

That's all I could write in my journal entry as well.

"16/4/2018 #338

Mystery - Need to figure out why he gives a shit.

Need to figure out why I care."

Its 7pm and that means I've officially spent six hours straight with nothing but that on my mind.

Why can't I stop thinking about this?

I think I'm more frustrated than anything else, that I can't peg exactly what he's up to. I have my walls built so high that it's almost like I can't even look over it to get a glimpse at the other side to see a different perspective on what he might want.

Its like I'm blinded by my own insecurities.

He has to want something.

I refuse to buy the notion he just likes me, or finds me interesting or wants to spend time with me. That's impossible.

No one has ever wanted that from me, romantically or in a friendship.

Well besides Frankie I guess but I still have my days where I question that too.

People have always wanted to use me for something, I wasn't valuable unless I was useful.

I've never been valuable.

Just disposable.

I honestly don't know if I've ever even been loved by a single person that's touched me. Because if that's what love feels like... then I don't want it.

My phone ringing snaps me out of my mental gymnastics, and I look down at it in my lap to see my sister's number lit up on the screen.

I sigh, throwing my head back against the couch and pinch my eyes shut.

I really don't want to answer it. But I know I have to because there's always that chance something has happened with mum, and for some reason I just can't risk it.

It would somehow be my fault, even if I wasn't there.

I look at my phone with tired eyes, picking it up and swiping across the screen to answer it before I bring it to my ear.

"Dundler Mifflin, this is Pam"

"Honestly Drew can you ever answer the phone like a normal person?" Melissa snaps, and I already want to hang up the phone.