inaction speaks louder than words.

we fight and say things neither of us mean. but sometimes the things that hurt the most are the things that aren't said. and that is my weapon of choice.

i was there for less than twenty minutes before my anger was ignited by the blue sparks spitting out of her mouth. i yelled. i hate when i yell. i start off strong, then realize how childish yelling is, and taper off sheepishly, avert my eyes and try to pretend i wasn't just yelling. she spared me this tail-end embarrassment by interrupting me mid-yell.

i shook my head, neither of us needed this right now/ever. we have the same fights all the time, a broken record. they are the ones that have survived since high school years, so our lines are well-rehearsed by now. except the tears are real.

as the steam was dissipating, i left. she called and apologized and said she loved me, please come back now?

i knew what i was supposed to say: "i'm sorry too, i love you too, okay." except i didn't.

i drove (music blasting, sunroof open) to my house (it's no home) and distracted myself by sipping peach iced tea and looking at the advertisements in mindless modeling magazines. when it caught up with me later, it hit me hard.

my friend's mother died last week and i am killing mine with words left unsaid.

i hate myself.