Unjust

So here I am, on Jerome's king bed, alone in this complete and utter darkness except for the light from my laptop's display, crying with a towel wrapped around my neck and wet hair. Do you know the feeling whenever you see someone's black face and you just feel like that person's venting his or her anger on you? Like when you both walk together but not exactly together because in actual fact you're following behind that person like a puppy with its tail between its legs, trying so hard to keep up when at your fastest pace, at the highest of fatigue. And then the most often asked mental question comes to your head: "What did I do this time to deserve this anger?"

I have this tendency to date back to my sad posts whenever I'm feeling down because I know it's not a first for me to feel this way, so to say penning down my sadness will just be a repetition of pent up frustrations. So rather than penning them down, I prefer reading them as per previous dated posts. Which brings me to this post, my absolute favorite and most relatable of all time:

"http://supermassiveasshole.blogspot.sg/2013/09/realist.html"

Whenever it's like this at Jerome's place, I feel the absolute urge to just pack up and head west. Back to Pioneer. But I don't because I know the irreversible mess upon walking out on someone. And yet there you went, walking out of your room shutting the door behind you and leaving me alone, again, in this darkness. I know it may seem like a simple small-scale action unlike a break-up with the literal meaning of walking out of someone's life, but I do take even this small-scale action seriously. As girls always say, "If he broke up with his ex just to get together with you, who's to say he won't do the same onto you?!" My rendition of it is, "If he can just walk out the room that easily, who's to say that he won't walk out of your life just the same?"

See? Sense, no? So just keep walking in and out of your room like I'm not even here Jerome. I so do enjoy the invisibility treatment here afterall because drinking with Jerome never ends on a good note. Okay maybe "never" is an overstatement. Let's just say out of 10 times drinking, 6 we don't end on good terms. Some of which includes the more memorable ones such as our few minutes of break-up at Attica, our quarrel at Zouk that ended with me shedding tears, and now this. So you know what? I've just thought of a belated new year's resolution for 2014!

Never to drink with Jerome. Ever. Ever again.