i wipe a single tear that slides down my cheek like it’s got a purpose. i look around this stupid fucking party—neon lights, red solo cups, sweat-slicked strangers laughing too loud. why am i even here? oh, that’s right. my friend begged me to come. said he would be here. said maybe it’d be good for me to see him again.

so i spent hours getting ready. curled every strand of hair so perfectly, not a single one out of place. layered on makeup like war paint, picked out the tightest skirt i own, something that screamed look at me. because a part of me—god, a part i hate—wanted him to look.

and now i’m here. standing under too-bright lights, surrounded by people who don’t care, watching the only boy i ever loved with someone else. and it’s like my skin doesn’t fit right, like it’s trying to slide off my bones to escape the weight of it all.

i despise my rotten fucking mind and how much it still worships him like he’s god and i’m the sacrifice.

i turn my back to him. i wipe another tear. pathetic. i sniff, head down, and push through the crowd on shaky legs—heels stabbing the ground with every unsteady step. why did i wear this skirt. why did i come. why did i think he’d see me and remember?

i reach the drinks table, but my hands are too shaky for anything stronger than water. i pour a glass and try to breathe through the nervous fire burning through my gut.

then i see him. with her. laughing like he used to with me. and it’s not the girl that makes my stomach churn—it’s him. because i know him. every twitch of his mouth, every tilt of his head, every storm behind his eyes. and when he looked at me from across the room?

it wasn’t nostalgia. it wasn’t longing. it was disgust. like i was something he scraped off his shoe.

and in that moment, i realized— i came here hoping he’d miss me. but he’s already forgotten i was ever his.