"Take care of yourself . . . Mary," he murmured quietly with a smile as he
walked out of my life. This time the nickname made me smile. He was gone
but somehow I couldn't muster up an ounce of happiness or even relief. He
was gone but things felt incomplete, unfinished. Even between his
sarcastic comments, his moody broodiness, his hurtful words, I still felt
the need to reach out to him. We had been friends once. Maybe friends is
too strong a word to describe what we had. Seeing him in the hallway had
been like a shock to my system.
He was back. I was even happy to see him. He was different but the same. He baited and I got caught all over again. You would think that I would have learned to stay away. Learned that all my overtures of piece and attempts at understanding would just be thrown back in my face. But still I tried. For god knows what reason I tried.
He was back but somehow it wasn't him. Maybe it never had been. He could be kind. He could be considerate. Hell, he could even be sweet when he wanted to be. Even in that limited time that we had, when we had finally reached an understanding, I could see all these things in him and more. But then he came back and brooding Tristan was the mask he wore. Bad boy Tristan who somehow thought he had something to prove. To me. Always to me. I saw something flicker deep in his eyes and saw him wince slightly as I mentioned Dean. Pain and harsh reality blocked out the crystalline twinkle in his eyes but they gone in an instant leaving me to doubt whether I had actually seen them. He fell too easily into sarcasm and scorn, always reaching towards me and then pushing me farther away. Why did he have to act that way? I'll never understand him.
He was back and he was almost cruel. Almost non-human. Because how could anyone with any sense of human reason, sense of right and wrong, sense of compassion ever try to ruin my life.
He was back and he was lost. Struggling to find his way. Struggling to connect to me. Maybe I was the one already gone.
Then he was leaving and somehow the hostility and bitterness cleared. I even tried to find a way for him to stay. I guess it hadn't hit me then. Tristan seemed like he would always be there. Right where I didn't want him. Right where I least expected him to be. He had jokingly said he wanted to give me a kiss. Somehow I don't think he was joking. Somehow I don't think I would have minded. In the end, we kept our distance from one another. Never getting too close but connected anyway; in a smile of goodbye, a few parting words.
He is gone but somehow the memory remains. Taunting me. Reminding me that there never was an ending.
He was back. I was even happy to see him. He was different but the same. He baited and I got caught all over again. You would think that I would have learned to stay away. Learned that all my overtures of piece and attempts at understanding would just be thrown back in my face. But still I tried. For god knows what reason I tried.
He was back but somehow it wasn't him. Maybe it never had been. He could be kind. He could be considerate. Hell, he could even be sweet when he wanted to be. Even in that limited time that we had, when we had finally reached an understanding, I could see all these things in him and more. But then he came back and brooding Tristan was the mask he wore. Bad boy Tristan who somehow thought he had something to prove. To me. Always to me. I saw something flicker deep in his eyes and saw him wince slightly as I mentioned Dean. Pain and harsh reality blocked out the crystalline twinkle in his eyes but they gone in an instant leaving me to doubt whether I had actually seen them. He fell too easily into sarcasm and scorn, always reaching towards me and then pushing me farther away. Why did he have to act that way? I'll never understand him.
He was back and he was almost cruel. Almost non-human. Because how could anyone with any sense of human reason, sense of right and wrong, sense of compassion ever try to ruin my life.
He was back and he was lost. Struggling to find his way. Struggling to connect to me. Maybe I was the one already gone.
Then he was leaving and somehow the hostility and bitterness cleared. I even tried to find a way for him to stay. I guess it hadn't hit me then. Tristan seemed like he would always be there. Right where I didn't want him. Right where I least expected him to be. He had jokingly said he wanted to give me a kiss. Somehow I don't think he was joking. Somehow I don't think I would have minded. In the end, we kept our distance from one another. Never getting too close but connected anyway; in a smile of goodbye, a few parting words.
He is gone but somehow the memory remains. Taunting me. Reminding me that there never was an ending.