Scrape you up the pavement just like I said I would,
I can't stand to watch the way you break yourself against the ground.
The things you are,
the way you do
shouldn't have a thing to do with anyone but you.
And it may be that things in your life are coming in too clear.
Go ahead, do the right thing
I'll just watch from here.
You're banging on the screen door
looking for the scraps,
any little piece of me
anything you can have.
Well oh so sorry,
oh so sad,
I don't have a thing you want.
Well it may be that things in your life are coming in too clear.
Go ahead do the right thing
I'll just watch from here.
I'm not the girl you think you saw,
popping my knuckles just waiting to fall.
Well it may be that things in your life are coming in too clear.
Well go ahead, do the right thing
I'll just watch from here.
Me not caring is the best thing,
Happening to you.
-From Here
Jenny Owen Youngs
"I hate you," She had been insisting this to the older man for the past few weeks, though it had only been recently that he had begun to believe her.
The woman turned away from him, and slammed her bedroom door behind her. Hoping, no, begging that the wood would serve as a buffer for whatever she was about to feel. As if the feeble distance would somehow make her words fall away. As if somehow, when she opened it the next morning no pain would be dealt.
She could hear a small tap on the oak of her bedroom door.
"Dora, stop this," the voice sounded harsh, as if scolding a child, and yet, she could detect a hint of amusement. "If you keep telling me that, I may start to believe you."
Dorcas Meadowes remained silent on her side of the door; the young woman swiped a strand of dark hair from her face and walked a few paces closer to one of the many barriers that kept the two apart.
"And you and I know that it's not true. You don't hate me, you never have. I don't understand how you're one of the bravest women I know," She could hear a muffled chuckle from the man. "But you're afraid of me."
There was a silence, and she could hear the screams that the floor panels made with every step the man took. It took everything in her to not walk out. To not run to the man to whom her heart belonged. To whom it had belonged to from the moment she had met him.
So instead, she walked to the door, and rested her weary head on the dark wood. He was right, Dora would sooner face the Dark Lord himself than Benjy Fenwick.
Because, as death was clearly imminent, her fate would be easier to accept if she didn't care; and she supposed it would be easier on him as well.
With her eyes lids pressed tightly together she lifted her small hand and placed it to the door.
"I lie to you because there is no easy choice. Me not caring is the best thing that could happen to you. Hating you makes matters easier. Hating you would make my fears easier to swallow. You are my first and last thought every day, and I that is what I hate. I hate the idea of you," A small tear escaped her ocean eyes as she pressed on in little more than a whisper. "I love you, and that is why I hate you."
Had Dora been listening carefully, she would have heard Benjy Fenwick shift his weight ever-so-slightly beside the door.
