lovelorn

ten

Wonder what she thinks of me- Chloe x Halle
The Weeknd -SZA
HiiiJack- SZA

(unedited)

Your life is a fucking joke. It wasn't always this way. In fact, when you woke up this morning, you took your life pretty seriously, but after receiving a phone call from a certain blonde haired bombshell that you didn't necessarily like or want to receive a phone call from, you decide that your life was flat out comical.

Her bachelorette party. She wanted to invite you to her bachelorette party tonight, and you try to say no but you hate the sound of her annoying whining and begging. You almost feel bad for Harry for having to deal with that irritating high pitched squeal of a voice that came through your phone's speaker like microphone feedback. Okay maybe, her voice isn't that bad, in fact, maybe it is nice and sweet and delicate, but you dislike her even more than usual after Harry stormed out of your room to go back to her that night last week.

You decide to go, but you give yourself a task, bringing your camera so you can document the whole thing. You'll need the distraction. Maybe a night out is what you need despite the circumstances, so you put on a brave face and get ready for your night. Feeling a little anti-wedding, you decide to wear black, but feeling like a villain is what gets you to squeeze into this tight little number. It's a skintight leather body suit with a zip going down the middle that you don't zip up all the way to accentuate your cleavage. You didn't even remember it was in your closet until this very moment, and you honestly think you bought it for a Catwoman costume one Halloween. You leave your hair falling wildly around your shoulders, running a hand through it to make it look slightly better. Your lips are a blinding red and your eyes are adorned with a smokey eye.

You study yourself in the mirror and realize you're quite the opposite of Sarah. Everything about her that he probably loves is not present in you at all. Your dark hair contrasts with her light blonde locks that flowed in lengths past her waist. The hue of your eyes completely different from her blue-green irises. The lull of her soft voice, like church bells ringing or a small bird tweeting is nothing like your low, sultry rasp. You guess Harry thought he could get the best of both worlds. The perfect yin yang. The perfect housewife and the mysterious, sexy bitch on the side. Because, after all, that's what you are-a bitch on the side. You sigh, turning away from the mirror and grabbing your camera bag. In a split decision, you decide you're getting blindingly drunk tonight.

You exit your room, closing the door behind you as you dig through your bag for your phone to call a ride. You stop by your roommate's door to let her know you're going out tonight and it almost offends you how surprised she is. You sigh as you leave your flat, locking the door behind you before heading towards the elevator. As you step in and squeeze into the corner of the small space, the reflective doors close and you're once again faced with your reflection. You hold your breath. You don't even look like yourself with your face all made up and your body's curves emphasized, you look more like an evil villain, intent to spread destruction and despair. You frown at the thought because no matter how hard you try, the relationship between Harry and Sarah is fucking indestructible. You remember when that used to be the friendship between you and him, now look at it--in tiny little pieces at your feet. You wonder if he realizes that the two of you will never be the same. You wonder if he realizes that he's the love of your pathetic life, and that you'll probably never love anyone as much as you love him. You wonder if you'll ever have the strength to tell him. You doubt it.

The ding of the elevator snaps you out of your sad thoughts and you catch a glimpse of a single tear rolling down your cheek. You wipe it away as you walk out of the elevator and into the crisp night air. The driver you'd called is waiting for you by the curb and you climb in, immediately give him a cheery greeting, its actually quite funny how ironic it is that you feel nothing like the cheerful persona you're putting on. You inwardly hope that you can keep it up all night, vowing not to mourn the loss of your dearest friendship.