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developed.
*02.15.03* @ *5:19 p.m.*
i got those pictures where i look so happy when i'm not facing him but looking the other way. his face is so miserable and contorted, and i can tell he was busy hating me or life or himself.
then there are secret shots of me facing him, my face shows i am hurt, because i felt i dragged him along when really, i was just trying to show how proud i was to have him near. i remember touching his face, trying to pass on the happiness i felt by him sitting next to me. the boy i loved on one side. the boy who is best on the other.
but my happiness wasn't infectious, and it left me feeling punctured. i remember pounding my fists on the steering wheel on the way home from his house because i had accomplished something that day, and he didn't care because he couldn't relate. and i felt that i had done something wrong by wanting him there.
the next day was the end of us. the happiest and most peaceful ending imaginable. we just drank ourselves until we didn't ever need to be together.
i wish i would have known that when those pictures were taken. that none of what was happening was going to matter now. that i didn't have to worry so much about him being happy because *i* couldn't make him happy either way.
but when it all boils down to that simmer of my self, looking at those pictures, i realize i miss him more than i ever thought possible. i miss who i was when i was with him.