Other people problems used to help me. Helping them helped me. It used to make me feel better about mine; like I wasn't the only drama queen in the world. Wasn't the only girl with a broken heart. Wasn't the only teenager living up to that melodramatic standard of self pity and self inflicted problems.
But now, it doesn't. Not because I don't care anymore. Not because I'm no longer broken. It just doesn't help. It might be because I don't think I can help anymore. Because I'm the cause for the problem? But it makes me feel worse.. Like my problems aren't as bad as theirs, yet I get as upset as they do; sometimes worse.
And I make alot of my problems for myself. I know I do that. And I hate it.I suppose I'll just have to live with it, because really; my life isn't that bad. I just have to learn to deal with it. Cope - It's all I've ever known to do.
Lexie stepped into the kitchen. Cursing under her breath and screaming at herself in her head for forgetting what day it was.
Christian was standing there, holding the cookies he'd made for the anniversary of the day they'd professed their love to each other. She'd stopped loving him that way a year ago. And he was willing to let her go, and he did. Everyone knew he didn't think of her that way anymore. But they kept this anniversary a secret between them. A secret everybody knew.
They'd joke about it. Christian said he'd bake her the cookies like he had that day she'd told him she needed him. The ones she ate every time she was upset; every time she needed him. She'd told him she'd wear the black and red dress with her gray tights that made her look like a beauty from a novel they'd read each other when they were sick, or needed the closeness.
But today, she'd forgotten what the date was. And only remembered when he said he'd be over later with her gift. She'd ran down stairs when he knocked on the door - totally forgetting her dress. He walked straight into the kitchen. She'd followed. Hugging herself to keep from rambling to him.
"You forgot, Lexie. You forgot." If she hadn't have known better - she'd have thought he was crying.
She knew he was upset, she'd forgotten something that meant alot to them. But he didn't love her like that, and this day was just their special moment to remember what they used to have.
"I know, Christian. I didn't mean to. I.. can go get the dress if you like?" She heard him drop the plate and shout in french.
She hated his french. It was bad, and she hated the language. She loved when he'd say things to her she'd never know what meant.
"Don't worry about the damn dress, Lexie!" She stepped back, surprised.
"I.. I.. I'm sorry?"
"No you are not. Ever since. Ever since you stopped caring, you -"
She cut him off mid-sentence, cut by what he'd implied. "I never stopped caring, loser." She didn't think he was a loser, she'd always called him one.
"Ever since we didn't spend this day in bed together. You don't try for me anymore."
"I try enough to care about this stupid day. And.. I.. We can go to bed, if that's what you want?"
"What if it is?!"
They both knew, neither wanted that. Not anymore.
"Then ask nicely."
"I don't want to go to bed with you, Alexis."
"Then don't say things like that. Look, we can clean this up, and talk about the date later."
"You're going to throw them out?"
"What else is there to do, Chris?"
"You're good at throwing things away, aren't you?"
"You know.. Don't do that."
Lexie's mum walked in, and they both looked up. "Hi Chris. Hey Lex."
"Hey." They both said in unison.
"I hope you're planning to clean that up? What a waste to throw out your hard work, though."
"Don't worry, Mrs A. Your daughters very good at throwing things away. I was just leaving. I'll see you later, Mrs Armond."
He pushed past her and walked to the door.
Story idea I need to write before I fogot. It's unfinished and un-edited. But I have assignments, and other things on my mind. I'll finish it when I finish this blog. When I can get past this nostalgia bitting at my chest and threatening to stop my breathing.
Next blog: What makes it worse; I like my scars.
