09 | s u b s i s t

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HATRED IS EASIER to maintain than love

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HATRED IS EASIER to maintain than love.

It builds and boils in my chest like a ball of lava ready to explode and burn any and everyone threatening to hurt me. I hate Mason for leaving me while simultaneously confusing my entirety with his insistent claims of love. I hate myself for giving in to pathetic coping methods that led me to sleep with my best friend.

I hate the way Lucas' lips clung to my skin and gave me this mark, evidence, staining my throat.

A layer of concealer lightens the hickey. I arch my neck in my vanity mirror and stare at the proof of my mistake as I try to blend it away. I snatch my foundation brush, pump a single drop of foundation on my finger, place it on my neck and blend that in as much as I can. A few sweeps of the bristles rid my body of last night.

I lay my curls over my shoulders and smile, scrutinizing the girl that is reflected. Everything is normal. Nothing happened. Life is great.

I'm not entirely sure who this façade is for. My parents have no clue that Mason broke up with me, and they will never find out that I slept with their angel, Lucas.

While Mason was supposed to be my future, everyone is well aware that Lucas is my forever in a nonromantic sense. He's the embodiment of my best friend forever, the one person who will never leave my side. Nights where we've let drunk giggles shape our conversations, we've joked about growing old and crippled with our families flourishing side by side. Mine with Mason and his with Amber.

Though those dreams are due for a change as Mason is no longer the prince who will follow me to the end.

Crack.

My smile falters at the reminder of the love I lost and continue to yearn for. A fracture in my mask.

Three seconds of setting spray should fix the mold. I blink rapidly as the mist lays against my made-up face and completes the healing process.

I hate Mason.

I hate Mason.

I hate Mason.

Two days have passed and he's still nestled within the confines of my heart. The way he kissed me just a few hours ago...it stains my memory and replays like a romantic fantasy. He seemed so weak as if my very existence was tearing down his walls. We were so close to falling back in sync. The way his lips brushed against my skin, it mirrored the tenderness of his kisses a few days before as we pondered about our future and slowly undressed beneath his sheets.

I don't love him anymore. I hate him.

The tears building in my eyes call me a liar.

Vrrr. Vrrr. My phone vibrates among the mess of makeup atop my dresser. I snatch it up to see Martsia's grinning icon. Her and Lena must be outside waiting for me.

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