the stars in your eyes | t.s. one shots

watching you moving on

january 27

11:58 pm

i saw him tonight. it was the first time since we'd broken up. i didn't know what to do, didn't know the standard protocol. god, it was awkward. he was with this new girl... i don't think she could've been more different from me if she'd tried. she was the kind of girl that you can't help but envy, can't help but plot her downfall before you've spoken even two words to her. her perfectly messy brunette pixie cut. the bright pink eyeshadow that dusted her lids with flecks of a champagne shimmer. almost no tits, almost no ass. hips that make you think she's probably never had a weight in the triple digits, even once in her life. the kind of girl who you want to see trip in her fucking four inch stilettos and spill the glass of red wine balancing precariously between her fingers all down the front of her tiny white top.

that's not something i'd ever say out loud. i know it's my own insecurities. i know that she's probably lovely. still, seeing her across the room, her teeth so white and smile so wide... it made me think of when i used to be the one in his arms. it made me miss it, just a little bit.

She sighs, placing her head in her hands. She can hear the sound of her own heart beating in her chest, the echo ringing in her ears in the silence of her home in the middle of the night. Even the cats are asleep; the world is still. Her eyes skim back over the confessions that she has made in dark blue ink, still drying on the page. It all feels so wrong to be admitting anywhere outside of her own mind, even if it is just in the confines of the lined paper in her journal. But she spent the whole night on the brink of an explosion, feeling like she might not make it through the party without breaking, shattering into a thousand pieces. She couldn't wait to get home, to feel the paper under the tip of her fountain pen. There are times where it's the only thing that can bring her comfort- and this is one of those times.

She wants everyone to think she's over him, that she's ready to go out and kiss a stranger after a couple drinks. It's been nearly two months since they called it quits, claiming they'd still be friends and both of them knowing damn well from the moment it was over that there wasn't a chance of that happening. That sort of thing never works. You can never maintain a real friendship with somebody who once meant so much more to you. Clearly, he's moved along, unaffected by the blonde hair in his rearview mirror. She saw him tonight, the way that he'd touch that beautiful woman in the same ways that he used to touch her, spots that would set her on fire, send sparks rushing through her veins. Nobody had touched her since their breakup- not in a sensual way, at least. She misses it, craves the wandering of another's fingertips as he kisses her forehead. She yearns for that intimate connection, both emotional and physical. For somebody who is going to be there for her, no matter what.

He couldn't be that for her, she supposes. That's why they ended things. Still, she remembers the days when he could be. There was a time where, with a single look, she could make his heart skip a beat. She didn't know what changed, but there was a day where it all became too much for him. It was like a switch flipped, and suddenly, even if he was physically right next to her on the sofa, it felt as though he was on another planet. It took her weeks to build up the courage to bring it up, and he swore he'd do better, apologized that he wasn't giving her everything she needed. He swore she hadn't done anything wrong, hadn't said anything she wasn't supposed to. But still, he couldn't do it. He couldn't be there for her in the way that he always had been in the past.

The day that they sat down and finally spoke about it all, making the mutual decision to end things, was the day that her heart broke. But still, she maintained enough self-respect to know that they didn't have a viable future. And that's how she knew she had to lace up her boots and walk out.

It still confuses her in the moments that it haunts her in the middle of the night. She can't make sense of it all, how they went from madly in love to nothingness. She doesn't know how it fell apart, why it happened. She thought they'd be married someday... but here she is, alone tonight when he surely went home hand-in-hand with someone else.