Starbucks I.

A solemn morning of drinking iced coffee was a great starter.

Just after I stood up was a girl I barely noticed, or let’s say – a girl I forced not to notice. She was sexy, she had the curves. I know her, and it’s positive. The friction dragged me back to my seat, as she fired a glance at me. Now, I’m helpless. The sun is up, yet my world started to crash in humiliation. As she drew nearer, I bowed my head like an elementary student feeling sorry for cheating. I just played with my cellphone, fingers crossed that this would be a short chit-chat.

The twirls of her hair have melted my knees once again.

I held her once again, not with a hug but with hello. At least, rather than fooling ourselves as if nothing had happened.

Probably, I was her worst boyfriend. That self-centered dickhead who would walk with her inside the mall without talking, was me. The television in mute. The bland coffee. The tasteless, the inconsistent, the die-hard rocker yet the strictest boyfriend. Worse, the flirt-boy who knows no boundaries.

We have fought over simple things: over her father’s problem, over a misleading text message, over a band member. Over anything that includes the two of us. From the start of our newly-built relationship, things were in a whirlpool. Spinning faster, getting dizzy, until all’s a blur. Until we fought, spitting cuss words, blaming and cursing each other for our (generally, mine) faults. With my sadistic personality, I haven’t realized that I would always give her a weekly bruise: not a physical bruise, but an emotional imprint in her heart.

Soon, the story ends. The final night happened in an open carpark, with the orange lights on. We argued about my instability as a boyfriend, with my irrational mood swings, and my numbness as a man. I stare blankly as she cried and mumbled her angst as my girlfriend. Her regrets, her pains. She walked nearer and finally, delivered a slap on my face. The disgust. Revenge.

My eyes went bloodshot, as tears fell to my face. I was awakened by the impact of her angry slap. Shocked by her move, like a resuscitated coma victim.

She hugged me for the last time, and I whispered my truthful sorry for what I’ve done. I hugged her tighter and told her that I’d let her go. You didn’t deserve me as a boyfriend.

So I broke up with her. I’ve wounded a precious jewel. I won’t let her be crushed.

I know she needed a break from hell. Hell, happened to be me.

The mocha frappucino plastic bottle fell off from my hands, crushing it with my shoes, telling myself: I’m the blandest coffee ever made. The ice was dominant, and when it melts, the flavor disappears. Indeed, it was true. I am numb, and my whole personality became a stuffed toy. A body without a soul.

-

And the short chit-chat? It was the closure. Not all rock songs end with a bitter story.

~ by utakgago on January 2, 2007.