You make me sick
Understanding what was meant that day would have been crucial. Surely, the outcome had not come as quite as the surprise it then actually did. Yes, things should not quite be the same again. In fact, things were altogether different from that conversation onwards.
“I am moving out”, she proclaimed casually, over a cup of tea and a movie.
“What about the couch?” My head was racing.
“You can keep it”, was her respond.
People had been spending much time in our living room, they had come to depend on it. The room devoid of a couch was unthinkable to me. I stood up, the vapor coming out of my head right now began to cloud my vision. Bumping into the side board, with dizziness unbearable, I made my way away from what had just ignited this fire of confusion.
Some strange form of paralysis set in. Pressure was building up inside, I knew this would bring with it so many consequences, real life consequences. Yet, all I could focus on was this big blazing fire of confusion. More than a truce with the other party I now sought cease fire within my soul. Yet another person I allowed myself to get attached to for the mere purpose of, well, letting bygones be bygones. Oh, how I had grown sick of those over the years. So many people had left my life without ever having been invited there by me in the first place.
Talking to those close to me did little in clearing the air. If anything, those many words spat out only added to the haze. Some words do the opposite. They possess the character of a Terminator come from the future to tell you something. A self-fulfilling prophecy. “You make me sick” were those words she used the next day in trying to clear the air. It did. I knew from then on that we would never be friends again.