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sometimes i wonder why our bodies radiate heat. you look at me like i'm crazy, but i really do wonder things like this. i think it's for the sole purpose of teasing another, the heat of just sitting next to someone is so addictive. or maybe i just have an addictive personality. but i couldn't help but wonder if it was mother nature's way of torturing us as i lay on my back stretched out on the floor. the cold wood bruised my spine and shoulder blades. the windows where fogged against the sharp biting cold outside.

no matter how much i turned the heater up i always had that cold in my bones.

i laid there for what seemed like forever. the sky outside turned from winter gray to orange, then to navy. i had to get out. all i can ever remember of the town is the blur of lights, people, discussions, and coffee shops. actually, that's only what i'd like to think. i took extreme interest in tiny details. i knew exactly how the cement two blocks from my apartment is cracked in the shape of an x infront of the bakery that always smells like cinnamon. i know how i can always expect the same girl with long curly brown hair with colorful streaks to be at the bus stop every tuesday and thursday morning at 8. i know how the 20 year old guy that works at the bookstore will listen to both soundtracks of 'Dazed and Confused' in the morning before anyone else comes in. i know how to make the 17 year old boy who works at the magazine stand blush. it's all a routine and without it i'm sure my perception would crumble.

but you weren't routine. and i COULDN'T STAND THAT. i wanted to break you for it. i never knew whether to expect you and 7:30 or 9 on monday mornings. i never knew if you would ignore me or not. i didn't know how to take you.

your anger was the worst. you called me spitfire when i was angry and said i had the look of a killer, but i was nothing compared to you. nobody escaped your rage. i remember the day you were certain i wasn't faithful to you or i was stealing from you or something (the cause isn't that important, is it?) and just when i thought you were going to throw me at the window, you poured coffee on my notebook. and i crumbled.

all i could think was please, god, let this just be one of those times when you think something happened and it didn't. but it really did happen. i spent a week crying, almost nonstop. i didn't see you for a month. i retreated to my fall back, a mind-numbing stomach-twisting mix of coffee and painkillers and alcohol. i was up for 3 days straight on something i've long since forgotten, trying my hardest to salvage my notebook (blow drying the papers among other things) and replacing the rest.

at one point i sat and tried to remember your face. i couldn't even remember your name.

but you came back. i don't know what was worse, the hurricane mess you left me in or the tornado you started up when you came back. it was always a rollercoaster with you. so pretty soon i spent more time in the bookstore in the mornings, nights in underground grungy coffee shops filled with junkies and poets and starving artists. i don't know when you finally took the hint, but one day i came home and all your things were gone and i wasn't phased. i finally took noticed at my bloodshot eyes, pale lips, and shaking hands. i didn't like having time to think about myself.