Breaks || Writing

She likes this kind of quiet. It’s different from the quiet you wear, the kind where she knows somewhere is there and there is this compulsion to talk, to laugh, to giggle nervously, to just do something. The kind of quiet you wear like a well-worn coat that makes her feel as if she’s more lonely than alone. 

It takes her two seconds to realize what time it is when you call, breaking the silence she prefers with the kind that’s unique only to you. 

It’s close to 2AM, and you say nothing but goodbye. She says nothing back. Then she hears you put the phone down. 

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So she might have lied. She didn’t really something to do; well, yeah, maybe she did, but it was pretty insignificant and could have been put it off for some other night. 

So she might have been trying to avoid something along the lines of having to drive you home while you played the dead weight, bad drunk, and alcoholic desperately in need of an intervention, but yeah. She didn’t really feel like being responsible for where your puke went, or your liver. Let your liver be your problem. She had enough to worry about. 

So she might have know this would end, like all things did, quietly and like glass breaking in a vacuum. She remembers how the two of you started; loud, with a bang, in some club three blocks away from where you live. 

So she might have realized what kind of person you were right away, the kind that tried to take the numbness away with shots, girls, strobe lights and fun. 

She tried to change that, at first. Now, she’s just tired. Kind of sleepy, too.

So she might have expected it too, when you called somewhere close to 2 AM and just breathed into the phone for a few minutes, like some creepy stalker. 

So she might have known it was coming, she might have known it a lot longer than you did that it wasn’t going to work. So she gave up before you ever knew, and just went through the motions of smiling, hugging, calling in the mornings and saying things that stopped meaning anything. 

So it might not have hurt her at all, when you said nothing ‘cept goodbye and the line went dead. She knew it was going to happen. She could wait for the pain to start in the morning, or she could get a move on.

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She puts the handset down, back into its stand. She goes back to sleep and dreams about the morning; there is no pain, no hurt. There is nothing. 

Reblog if you’ll answer anything in your ask right now.

superpancake:

Okay.

(Source: neckstime, via kaathiiee)