020210

A likely story. as real as any other lie you or I have ever told each other. exchanging fake secrets in the dark. Even though I knew it wasn't the truth, I still choked it down, let it pass, because you and I both know I don't like confrontation, but neither do you so it goes without saying.

I guess I should have been mature and gotten angry when it made sense to, when we were living in the present instead of looking to the past. How productive, to spend all your time dwelling on nostalgia but not learning a goddamn thing from your mistakes. What purpose does that serve? Do you take comfort in knowing you've fucked up like this before and went through this pain before and survived this bullshit before?

When you know how the story ends, you then have the power to change it, fix it, make it better. We both knew this would only come back to torture us later, but that didn't stop me from saying okay and letting you go to a family party we both knew didn't exist.