Pattern

Friday night and the world’s wide open. I had three options, and I was already halfway through justifying my first choice—the Melo with André and Lisa. Seen the Microsoft-Apple thing anyway. Going to parties with Ana never ended well, just never.

But Ana was having a shit week. Really shit. So when she asked, I said yes.

The party was in some resort town disco. Tiny place, asshole bouncers, the kind of people so proud of themselves for dancing to hip-hop remixes in a room the size of my apartment. I could see it all before we even got there—the people bailing, the crowd, everything wrong. My alarm bells were screaming. I ignored them.

Just followed her around. Got clingy and jealous the way I always do, like some unwanted tag-along to her evening. The whole night was exactly as bad as I knew it would be. When it was finally over, everyone was asleep—my ride home had given up on me. So I walked. Had my iPod at least. Didn’t help.

Next time I’ll listen to myself. Next time I won’t go anywhere with her. I only need to remember the suicidal thoughts. That’s enough to stop me.