Burning Bridges

While you’re lying in bed with your boyfriend late at night, watching Netflix, letting him hold you close, and not wasting a single thought on me, I’m standing at a train station after a boring party, in the rain, with two cold McDonald’s cheeseburgers in my bag. I’m waiting for the last train home, only to indulge in the one thing I was determined to avoid: thinking about you. I tell myself I’m a good person - at least, that’s what I cling to, to keep from going completely insane. I don’t want to interfere in someone else’s relationship, no matter how broken or insanely unhappy I imagine it must be. A move like that wouldn’t suit me.

I wouldn’t be the hero rescuing the helpless princess from a painful relationship. I’d be a jerk, convinced that the only way to find happiness is by ruining someone else’s. No one wants to be with someone like that. No one wants anything to do with someone like that. Especially not the girl on the other side of my crumbling world, whose grin I see whenever I close my eyes. Her happiness should be untouchable, even if she’s decided I’m not allowed to be a part of it. So, the only thing left to do is gather what’s left of my sanity and make the one decision worth following: I have to tear down, burn, and blow up these bridges that lead in the wrong direction.

There’s still hope that I won’t drown in my minimalist melancholy for good. This feeling, with a shift in perspective, could turn into a treasure trove of ideas. I need to draw the right conclusions, not cling to outdated thought patterns. Maybe those other kind faces aren’t just empty shells. Maybe one of them can stir the same feelings in me as the slim, black-clad girl with the life-worn white sneakers. Maybe one of them is just as pretty, smart, and mischievous - if only I give her the chance, instead of dismissing it. And if I’m lucky, I might even forget why I was so captivated by that one impudently grinning girl in the first place.