How I’d love to stay at home, not show up for the exam. But it’s just a crazy dream, like proving to myself that I don’t care. I don’t care about this exam. I don’t care about education. I don’t care about what people say. I don’t care if it hurts you. It’s all a big show you see. I don’t have the guts to actually do it.
I do show up. As I walk in, I see one of my favorite girls, Anna. We kiss and hug. Others show up too. Before I know it, I’m sort of surrounded by the students, the ones I like, and the ones I don’t.
I’m going to the notice board to see where my seat is going to be. I see you. Standing there, so tall, with your back towards me, and some girls are talking to you. Do I locate you so easily because you’re so handsomely tall, or is it because I’m so fixated on you my eyes can’t see anything else?!?
I walk past you. I don’t turn around to look at you or say hi. I’m sure you see me. You’re in love too. I’m still talking to the girls. I know you don’t like them. I talk, tell them how bad I feel, how scared, and that I’m just there to give them some courage! That I’m not taking the exam myself. All the time, you’re supposedly talking to your gang; your eyes are on me though. Your smile, so bright and broad and happy, is all mine.
I’m having another coughing fit. You know that it’s not the cold. You’ve seen me double over and cough my insides out so many times. To you it means what it’s supposed to mean: I’ve either been crying a lot, or I’m having an anxiety attack. This time it’s kind of both! You haven’t even said hello yet. But you ask me if I’m fine. I know how you hate my tone of voice when I say Sure, fine!
We walk towards the examination hall. You’re going to be in the same hall, with me. I don’t know if we’ll be sitting close enough though.
-“I’ve never liked to cheat. But I’d love to cheat with you!”
That rings a bell?!?
You follow us, without your gang of girls. As we stop outside the hall to chat some more –you know girls and chatting! - you catch up with us. You ask one of my friends a question. I’m still pissed, but I can’t help laughing. She’s such a know-it-all fellow; you’re going to have a hell of a laugh afterwards. How cruel you can be at times!
You try to take me aside. But it can’t be. There are too many people around. They all know us. They even like us. They want to be around. Heck, it’s an exam day, they need the moral support, need to know that we’re all in the same boat, not really ready!
We get inside with everybody else. Anna is the only one sitting between us. You’re so close. During the whole exam, I’m watching you as mush as I’m concentrating on my paper. I can’t really sit and answer stupid questions on stupid subjects that I’m not even interested in while you’re sitting like three feet away! I should be in your arms right now! I write all I can come up with at a situation like this. I manage to catch your eye –have you been watching me too? I tell you that I’m getting out. Almost half the time remains. And you say that you’ll join me in five minutes.
I’m on top of the world.
You come out and sit with me. We talk about the exam. How bad we did. How we practically made up each and every answer! We’re having a good laugh. I’m thinking that the exam won’t be over for more than an hour yet. Time enough for us to do something, to go to our place The Naughty Angel maybe and have something. But you say you have to go back. Why? You don’t have to! You can pretend to be at the exam. Now I’m really pissed again. Do you, or don’t you want to take every chance you get to be with me? We’re talking an hour here! And you’re going to waste it.
How many times have you told me that you can’t change things? You know I hate it about you. You being so weak. Hiding behind a wall of incapability. Being in denial. Not wanting to make decisions. Not wanting to act. The stupid need to be liked and loved and approved by everyone, at any cost.
How many times have I told you that you can’t because you don’t want it bad enough? I believe that if you want something bad enough, you want anything bad enough, you’ll get it. I actually believe that, despite what you might think. It’s what I’ve been living by for years. It’s why I haven’t given up on life. Why I strive and struggle and fight. Because I know that if I want something bad enough, if I try hard enough, then I’ll get it.
I’m walking out on you again. I tell you that you don’t appreciate me now; you should wait till I’m gone. That the moment I’m out of your hands forever, then you’re going to realize what you’ve missed.
-I won’t miss moments like this though!
Not a very nice thing to say. Not when your girl is screaming for love and attention. I walk out. You follow, for a few feet. I hear you call my name, but I don’t turn around. In like ten seconds you stop and go back. I walk on. I’m still walking when you catch up with me on your bike. Why follow if you don’t wanna be nice? I don’t understand. You ask me to join you for a quick drink. I deserve so much more than that. Don’t have to settle for it. I don’t…
You say: “So, all I do, sneaking out, taking a risk day and night, to come and visit you, it means nothing! Everything is my fault!”
- It does mean something. It’s just that you don’t care enough about me. All I ever asked you to was to prove that you cared about me. I guess you don’t!
- And since when you and I have become two separate concepts, if I may ask?
- Let me see, hmm, since, like forever! We were never we, because you didn’t want us to. We’ve always been you and me.
As you drive by, in your ugly anger, I break down and cry. It’s getting easier by the day you see. There was a time, not very long ago, when I couldn’t have stood the sight of you driving away angrily. I would’ve died for the fear of you never coming back. Now I can keep a straight face while you’re around. I can always break down and cry and go weak and die afterwards.
I walk all the way back home. My cell phone is off. I’m afraid if I turn it on, if you call, then I can’t be strong, I might pick up. It takes me hours to get home. Then I turn the phone on. Your message reads: “I know. You say now: how easy it is for you to… See you later.”
Oh God, how many times have I fallen prey to your empty promises of being there for me? Why am I falling again? Will I ever learn?
Will I be strong this time? Will I actually manage to set you, and myself free? God knows I don’t want to be free. I want to stay. For as long as you will keep me. The problem is, you’re not keeping me tightly enough…
I hate myself when I’m strong like this. I hate to pretend that I don’t care. I hate to put up a show of being able to let you go, a show of surviving without you. But, the thing is, I’m just a girl after all. Not having my man take care of me, not having my man be there for me and have my back, I have to be strong myself. Life, the world, people, it’s all about the survival of the fittest. Let them see you’re weak and they’ll swallow you up. I’m not losing the fight of life over a love affair that doesn’t mean anything to anyone but me. That would be too foolish.
I am going to put up a good front, put up a good fight, for as long as I can. If it’s not a nice sight for you to see, you can start fighting beside me. That will help…
Hours pass by. One by one. It’s been, how many hours? I’m not sure.
I’m sitting at my PC, downloading music as usual. My messenger is on. The ID that you use. I never told you what it means or where it came from. It’s “Honey and the Moon”, my favorite Joseph Arthur song:
We're made out of blood and rust
looking for someone to trust
without
a fight
I think that you came too soon
you're the honey and the moon
that lights
up my night
But right now
everything is turning blue,
and right now
the sun is trying to kill the moon,
and right now
I wish I could follow you
to the shores
of freedom
where no one lives
Anyways, the messenger’s up, and there you are:
- Hmmm…
We both know what it means. You like it when I make that sound. But right now, I’m still pissed. I don’t exactly welcome your jokes. In less than two minutes, I tell you to fuck off. And you do!
How many hours have ticked on me since?
I have no clue. I can’t even see, can’t look at my watch. My eyes are swollen the size of large walnuts. All red and hot and painful. My head is exploding with pain. I’m not crying anymore for I have no tears left. No body fluids at all! I give you a couple of missed calls. I know you can’t pick up. But this is my only way of contacting you, letting you know that I need you. The third time I try to call, the phone is off…
I send you an e-mail:
Hi;
I think you may not be talking to me anymore, specially after not what you did at noon, but after the very bad attitude you showed when you were on-line a couple of hours ago. Anyways, this might be the last time I write to you. I'm going to be working on my book, as I was when you signed in (that's why I told you that I didn't have the time for it if you wanted to make fun!). I'll be writing to you, you see, since the book is addressing you all the time. The book is going to be an account of my life, after, and even before I met you. It's a sort of, not justification of why I'm alive because nothing justifies that unfortunate mistake, but an explanation of why I needed you to be kind and nice. It explains how you failed me, not having it in you to be nice and kind to anyone. It talks about how I failed myself, not having a better common sense or judgment!
For the book I'll always be thankful and grateful to you, for I would've never had the confidence to start it without you. If this is goodbye, I may not have the power to finish it though.
But, I'm still your Chica. There's nothing in the world that can change that. It's a matter of choice you see. I CHOOSE to remains yours, even though you may not keep me at your side, as close as is within your power. I'm not asking for miracles anymore. I've lost all hope...
Will we be friends?
By the way, me, not showing up for the other three exams -if I decide not to show up- has nothing to do with you, is not your fault. I want you to study the best that you can. Get the highest marks possible. Do well, for me. I don't need the guilt of your failure added to my already not so very clear conscience! If I don't show up it will be because I'm too busy putting my mind on paper, spilling my heart out, getting you out of my system (I have to do it you see. Today, it seems like you've left me for good), and trying to find some other reason to hold on to my fucked up life for. Something besides having promised you that I won't die. That promise, right now, seems as good as the promise you made to be nice to me a few days ago...
I still love you. It will never be easy to let you go. The pain of not having you is never going to go away...
Your Chica,
With the same love as ever,
Wishing you peace,
And:
Piece!!!
P.S: Hope to see you around. Will you talk to me ever again?!?
What can I say? What do I do?
I need to talk to someone. I need to get it off my chest. I can’t die of a broken heart. Who will find the body if I die tonight? After how many days? It can’t happen. Too ugly, too much pain. I call Freda. She’s a nice girl. You actually suspect she knows about us. It’s not true. I had to give her a very twisted version of the story, because I needed to have someone to talk to, on nights like this. So I call. And we talk.
I tell her about the scene today. Without telling her that I was actually dying to spend time with you. She’s such a traditional girl, believes in doing the right thing at any cost. She tells me the right thing. Tells me that I’m going to be the loser here. Everybody says that. I know it’s true. It’s a fact, and I’ve accepted it. I just don’t know why tonight, out of all the nights that I’ve sat alone in my misery, out of all the nights that you’ve left me feeling abandoned, tonight I’m actually considering this right thing to do.
She believes you’re simply a man like any other. You are sick and tired of your married life. You’re looking for some changes, something fresh, new, and fun. I’m right there for you. But, like we all know, you don’t have the guts to ever try to put things right at home. You’re neither going to divorce her, or tell her that the marriage is just a formality. You’re not going to devote yourself to her either. In the end, I’m going to be left high and dry anyways. You’ll end up miserably married, still looking for love and happiness, but not with me. Molly will be married to you, still fancying any male being she lays eyes on, using you and abusing you and getting more than she’s worth.
I’ll end up lonely, regretting having ever met you.
My friends believe I should stop it, once and for all. I should stop taking your calls. I should stop meeting you. Even at college, where we have to meet, I should be cool, cold and distance.
It’s true. It’s what I should do. What I’m supposed to do. The right thing to do. It’s just that I’m not ready to do it yet. I’m not strong enough. Will I ever be?!? Soon…
I do show up. As I walk in, I see one of my favorite girls, Anna. We kiss and hug. Others show up too. Before I know it, I’m sort of surrounded by the students, the ones I like, and the ones I don’t.
I’m going to the notice board to see where my seat is going to be. I see you. Standing there, so tall, with your back towards me, and some girls are talking to you. Do I locate you so easily because you’re so handsomely tall, or is it because I’m so fixated on you my eyes can’t see anything else?!?
I walk past you. I don’t turn around to look at you or say hi. I’m sure you see me. You’re in love too. I’m still talking to the girls. I know you don’t like them. I talk, tell them how bad I feel, how scared, and that I’m just there to give them some courage! That I’m not taking the exam myself. All the time, you’re supposedly talking to your gang; your eyes are on me though. Your smile, so bright and broad and happy, is all mine.
I’m having another coughing fit. You know that it’s not the cold. You’ve seen me double over and cough my insides out so many times. To you it means what it’s supposed to mean: I’ve either been crying a lot, or I’m having an anxiety attack. This time it’s kind of both! You haven’t even said hello yet. But you ask me if I’m fine. I know how you hate my tone of voice when I say Sure, fine!
We walk towards the examination hall. You’re going to be in the same hall, with me. I don’t know if we’ll be sitting close enough though.
-“I’ve never liked to cheat. But I’d love to cheat with you!”
That rings a bell?!?
You follow us, without your gang of girls. As we stop outside the hall to chat some more –you know girls and chatting! - you catch up with us. You ask one of my friends a question. I’m still pissed, but I can’t help laughing. She’s such a know-it-all fellow; you’re going to have a hell of a laugh afterwards. How cruel you can be at times!
You try to take me aside. But it can’t be. There are too many people around. They all know us. They even like us. They want to be around. Heck, it’s an exam day, they need the moral support, need to know that we’re all in the same boat, not really ready!
We get inside with everybody else. Anna is the only one sitting between us. You’re so close. During the whole exam, I’m watching you as mush as I’m concentrating on my paper. I can’t really sit and answer stupid questions on stupid subjects that I’m not even interested in while you’re sitting like three feet away! I should be in your arms right now! I write all I can come up with at a situation like this. I manage to catch your eye –have you been watching me too? I tell you that I’m getting out. Almost half the time remains. And you say that you’ll join me in five minutes.
I’m on top of the world.
You come out and sit with me. We talk about the exam. How bad we did. How we practically made up each and every answer! We’re having a good laugh. I’m thinking that the exam won’t be over for more than an hour yet. Time enough for us to do something, to go to our place The Naughty Angel maybe and have something. But you say you have to go back. Why? You don’t have to! You can pretend to be at the exam. Now I’m really pissed again. Do you, or don’t you want to take every chance you get to be with me? We’re talking an hour here! And you’re going to waste it.
How many times have you told me that you can’t change things? You know I hate it about you. You being so weak. Hiding behind a wall of incapability. Being in denial. Not wanting to make decisions. Not wanting to act. The stupid need to be liked and loved and approved by everyone, at any cost.
How many times have I told you that you can’t because you don’t want it bad enough? I believe that if you want something bad enough, you want anything bad enough, you’ll get it. I actually believe that, despite what you might think. It’s what I’ve been living by for years. It’s why I haven’t given up on life. Why I strive and struggle and fight. Because I know that if I want something bad enough, if I try hard enough, then I’ll get it.
I’m walking out on you again. I tell you that you don’t appreciate me now; you should wait till I’m gone. That the moment I’m out of your hands forever, then you’re going to realize what you’ve missed.
-I won’t miss moments like this though!
Not a very nice thing to say. Not when your girl is screaming for love and attention. I walk out. You follow, for a few feet. I hear you call my name, but I don’t turn around. In like ten seconds you stop and go back. I walk on. I’m still walking when you catch up with me on your bike. Why follow if you don’t wanna be nice? I don’t understand. You ask me to join you for a quick drink. I deserve so much more than that. Don’t have to settle for it. I don’t…
You say: “So, all I do, sneaking out, taking a risk day and night, to come and visit you, it means nothing! Everything is my fault!”
- It does mean something. It’s just that you don’t care enough about me. All I ever asked you to was to prove that you cared about me. I guess you don’t!
- And since when you and I have become two separate concepts, if I may ask?
- Let me see, hmm, since, like forever! We were never we, because you didn’t want us to. We’ve always been you and me.
As you drive by, in your ugly anger, I break down and cry. It’s getting easier by the day you see. There was a time, not very long ago, when I couldn’t have stood the sight of you driving away angrily. I would’ve died for the fear of you never coming back. Now I can keep a straight face while you’re around. I can always break down and cry and go weak and die afterwards.
I walk all the way back home. My cell phone is off. I’m afraid if I turn it on, if you call, then I can’t be strong, I might pick up. It takes me hours to get home. Then I turn the phone on. Your message reads: “I know. You say now: how easy it is for you to… See you later.”
Oh God, how many times have I fallen prey to your empty promises of being there for me? Why am I falling again? Will I ever learn?
Will I be strong this time? Will I actually manage to set you, and myself free? God knows I don’t want to be free. I want to stay. For as long as you will keep me. The problem is, you’re not keeping me tightly enough…
I hate myself when I’m strong like this. I hate to pretend that I don’t care. I hate to put up a show of being able to let you go, a show of surviving without you. But, the thing is, I’m just a girl after all. Not having my man take care of me, not having my man be there for me and have my back, I have to be strong myself. Life, the world, people, it’s all about the survival of the fittest. Let them see you’re weak and they’ll swallow you up. I’m not losing the fight of life over a love affair that doesn’t mean anything to anyone but me. That would be too foolish.
I am going to put up a good front, put up a good fight, for as long as I can. If it’s not a nice sight for you to see, you can start fighting beside me. That will help…
Hours pass by. One by one. It’s been, how many hours? I’m not sure.
I’m sitting at my PC, downloading music as usual. My messenger is on. The ID that you use. I never told you what it means or where it came from. It’s “Honey and the Moon”, my favorite Joseph Arthur song:
We're made out of blood and rust
looking for someone to trust
without
a fight
I think that you came too soon
you're the honey and the moon
that lights
up my night
But right now
everything is turning blue,
and right now
the sun is trying to kill the moon,
and right now
I wish I could follow you
to the shores
of freedom
where no one lives
Anyways, the messenger’s up, and there you are:
- Hmmm…
We both know what it means. You like it when I make that sound. But right now, I’m still pissed. I don’t exactly welcome your jokes. In less than two minutes, I tell you to fuck off. And you do!
How many hours have ticked on me since?
I have no clue. I can’t even see, can’t look at my watch. My eyes are swollen the size of large walnuts. All red and hot and painful. My head is exploding with pain. I’m not crying anymore for I have no tears left. No body fluids at all! I give you a couple of missed calls. I know you can’t pick up. But this is my only way of contacting you, letting you know that I need you. The third time I try to call, the phone is off…
I send you an e-mail:
Hi;
I think you may not be talking to me anymore, specially after not what you did at noon, but after the very bad attitude you showed when you were on-line a couple of hours ago. Anyways, this might be the last time I write to you. I'm going to be working on my book, as I was when you signed in (that's why I told you that I didn't have the time for it if you wanted to make fun!). I'll be writing to you, you see, since the book is addressing you all the time. The book is going to be an account of my life, after, and even before I met you. It's a sort of, not justification of why I'm alive because nothing justifies that unfortunate mistake, but an explanation of why I needed you to be kind and nice. It explains how you failed me, not having it in you to be nice and kind to anyone. It talks about how I failed myself, not having a better common sense or judgment!
For the book I'll always be thankful and grateful to you, for I would've never had the confidence to start it without you. If this is goodbye, I may not have the power to finish it though.
But, I'm still your Chica. There's nothing in the world that can change that. It's a matter of choice you see. I CHOOSE to remains yours, even though you may not keep me at your side, as close as is within your power. I'm not asking for miracles anymore. I've lost all hope...
Will we be friends?
By the way, me, not showing up for the other three exams -if I decide not to show up- has nothing to do with you, is not your fault. I want you to study the best that you can. Get the highest marks possible. Do well, for me. I don't need the guilt of your failure added to my already not so very clear conscience! If I don't show up it will be because I'm too busy putting my mind on paper, spilling my heart out, getting you out of my system (I have to do it you see. Today, it seems like you've left me for good), and trying to find some other reason to hold on to my fucked up life for. Something besides having promised you that I won't die. That promise, right now, seems as good as the promise you made to be nice to me a few days ago...
I still love you. It will never be easy to let you go. The pain of not having you is never going to go away...
Your Chica,
With the same love as ever,
Wishing you peace,
And:
Piece!!!
P.S: Hope to see you around. Will you talk to me ever again?!?
What can I say? What do I do?
I need to talk to someone. I need to get it off my chest. I can’t die of a broken heart. Who will find the body if I die tonight? After how many days? It can’t happen. Too ugly, too much pain. I call Freda. She’s a nice girl. You actually suspect she knows about us. It’s not true. I had to give her a very twisted version of the story, because I needed to have someone to talk to, on nights like this. So I call. And we talk.
I tell her about the scene today. Without telling her that I was actually dying to spend time with you. She’s such a traditional girl, believes in doing the right thing at any cost. She tells me the right thing. Tells me that I’m going to be the loser here. Everybody says that. I know it’s true. It’s a fact, and I’ve accepted it. I just don’t know why tonight, out of all the nights that I’ve sat alone in my misery, out of all the nights that you’ve left me feeling abandoned, tonight I’m actually considering this right thing to do.
She believes you’re simply a man like any other. You are sick and tired of your married life. You’re looking for some changes, something fresh, new, and fun. I’m right there for you. But, like we all know, you don’t have the guts to ever try to put things right at home. You’re neither going to divorce her, or tell her that the marriage is just a formality. You’re not going to devote yourself to her either. In the end, I’m going to be left high and dry anyways. You’ll end up miserably married, still looking for love and happiness, but not with me. Molly will be married to you, still fancying any male being she lays eyes on, using you and abusing you and getting more than she’s worth.
I’ll end up lonely, regretting having ever met you.
My friends believe I should stop it, once and for all. I should stop taking your calls. I should stop meeting you. Even at college, where we have to meet, I should be cool, cold and distance.
It’s true. It’s what I should do. What I’m supposed to do. The right thing to do. It’s just that I’m not ready to do it yet. I’m not strong enough. Will I ever be?!? Soon…
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