Glancing at your watch, you wondered how much longer you had to stay at this party. Just how long was long enough to get your friends off your back? How long so they’d stop worrying about you being home alone? You sigh and decide on another twenty minutes. That had to be good enough.

Your face felt like it was going to crack from the effort of your fake smile. The last time you’d genuinely felt happy enough for a real smile seemed so long ago, long enough that you weren’t sure if the fake smile you constantly wore now was fooling anyone.

smiling through it all, yeah that’s my life

Across the room, your ex Rafe was kicking back on the couch, his arm draped lazily over his new girlfriend Sofia’s shoulders. He can feel your eyes on him, knows that you’re studying how he’s interacting with Sofia. It makes him want to push her away, throw her off of him.

But instead he does the exact opposite. He keeps her at his side, his hand under her jaw guiding her lips against his. He wants you to hurt. Maybe it’s twisted, but seeing you in pain like that is oddly satisfying. His face twists into a cruel smile when he finally pulls back from the kiss.

did it just to hurt me, make me cry

As you bite back tears, you wonder who you hate more. Him or yourself. You hated how easily he could kiss another girl. Hated the way he could move on from you. He was an idiot, but you were pathetic. It was pathetic that you were so stuck on him, while he didn’t seem to care at all. Pathetic that you thought about his dumb face all the time.

made it out alive, but I think I lost it

And the worst part was that you knew, deep down, that you’d go right back to him if he looked at you a certain way, or said the right thing. It wouldn’t take much at all. Because you still loved him, and that was the most pathetic thing of all.