those bruises on your arm, the sadness in his face, the strangeness of the whole three weeks all equal one big black hole you hate facing and practically can’t. back-pat yourself all you want about how careful you are, about how in and out of minefields you can dart, pride yourself on how clean you can keep things, how you never stain your own pristine white blouse, but look in the mirror and realize this is nothing but a big bloody mess. not only have you betrayed that lovely boy in chicago—he’d despise you if he knew what you were doing to forget him—but to make it worse you are now someone else’s cheat. by trying not to step in the quicksand you’ve fallen off a cliff, onto a pile of daggers coated in burning acid. so now you are the biggest fool. and worse, a hateful fool. you knew so much but you knew nothing. now everything crashes around you and for the first time you look at yourself and know that you deserve it. you deserve to feel this smashed. hooky facing all those faces you are faking being friends with just can’t happen today.
