Yoghurt cup #74

• It felt like the first time I wanted to hold his hands. I remember it was another hang-out date that we had to get me out of that boring English class. We were walking that road near the biggest department center in the city, I was wearing the same nail polish color, dressed in jeans and a striped T-shirt. I wanted to hold his hands so badly that I did it, like a normal gesture that you do when someone's hand is so close to yours, pretending (or not) that I needed someone to hold on to when crossing the street. We were both happy, I think, with nothing on our minds, no jobs, no incidents, no arguments and breakups and hurtful words. We were nothing to each other, and I had to really hold myself back every night when the thought about him crept in because what if he doesn't like me back?
• I think he knew what was going on today, I was really thankful when he touched my hand, basically the same feeling when I first held his hand, but in a darker, more desperate way. We were there, on that windy rooftop, holding each other with every single feeling in the world, but without an easy way to express it, because considering the current situation, every movement is inappropriate. If I hadn't have this stubborn character, maybe it would still have worked.
• I really wanted to cry today, when we were on the rooftop, just to let it out when I still could. But somehow I couldn't. Not wanting to know about him anymore. And then what? Pretending to talk like nothing had happened, like you didn't just lie there crying yourself out for nights and nights, but the mere thought of still being able to talk to him still thrills you to the bone. And then what? Being on a date with him, having him acting sweet and caring and smiling at you with the smile that you know he only has with certain people. And then what? Having him kiss you unexpectedly when you can't even think or cry anymore. And then what?
• Then what?
• Have I run out of my chances? I can't balance myself anymore between wanting desperately to be with him all the time, talking to him about every single detail about the world and hearing him talk about how cameras are made around the world and what are you doing you're hurting yourself. It's like using drugs to reduce pain, when it wears off, you can feel the pain crawling back to your body slowly, turning into something you're no longer familiar with. And there you are, alone in the dark, fighting a new kind of pain desperately when all you think about is another dose of drugs to make this go away for one moment.
• Because most of the time I can't figure anything out, I've been letting instinct having its way. Oh well, you can't get any more desperate than this, might as well do what you think is best at the moment.
• It's terribly late at night. When will this be over?