#2 - I'll forget the first

I had to use my special gift just recently. If you've been following, you would know what it is.

The scenario is still inside my head, and as I re-run the words exactly, each facial expression is noted down to a T.
I hear the background murmur of voices, I see his mouth wording the sentences, I see his eye rolls, awkward hand motions.
Abrasive. Hostile. Immature. Angry. Defensive and offensive at the same time.
That is he, not I.

Despite the fact that I was surprised at his aggressive attempt at a conversation, I responded cordially and with reserve. A lady.
I shut down his child-like venture to draw me to anger, to get under my skin.
I told him to wait, because frankly, I had better stuff to do than converse with him.
When he tried to undercut my authority as a girl, as a woman, I told him to sit down because I was the leader.
Only I would get to do anything; I would do things in my own time.

He left. I mentally collapsed from the strain of keeping it together while I continued talking to those who really needed me. I had a job to do, and I was going to keep on doing it.

He came back, and this time, he tried to simper and smile, trying so hard to look good in my eyes. Pitiful.
With a regal air, I turned away because my gift allowed me to keep back sharp retorts.

I don't remember anything good from this relationship, and probably because there were none.
I can't believe I was with you in the first place.
I'll forget the first.


  1. There's this strange feeling when you write about your past, isn't it?

    1. Yes.
      When I write about my past, everything turns black and white...