On November 2016, we met for the first time since falling apart months before. It was a club anniversary and he was the one who encouraged me to join. He wouldn’t even look at me when he used to hate his glasses and his bad eyesight because he “can’t see me through the most authentic means.” He left early, without a word or a nod, not even the club’s traditional handshake. It was in his cold gaze that made the room even colder than it really is. And in that moment, as our shoulders brushed with each other, I felt more distant than all those months of him being miles away.
On November 2015, we were in a hotel room 24 kilometers away from my house and 44 kilometers away from his. It was 8pm, his girlfriend would be waking up four hours later in Canada so we have to be quick. He checked the wifi first, girlfriend hates slow replies. I on the other hand, was asked for an identification. They had to discuss about letting me in since I just turned nineteen two months before. “It’s against our policies,” they said.
On November 2014, I was kneeling inside a church at 7am. They just opened and no one but the morning sweeper could hear my silent cries. Three days prior, I found out his “ex” isn’t really an “ex.” The night before, I confronted him and he lied before I showed him the receipts I have collected. On the way out, the morning sweeper cheered me up on the exams that I’ve been crying about.
On November 2013, my first love and I was at a high school reunion. Our friends asked why we didn’t worked out and we couldn’t give an answer. They asked if we would get back together again and he answered, “we might or we might not, we’ll see.” The line that he has been saying the years before and the years to come.
Somehow, I always end up choosing men that are unavailable. The one already taken, the one who was never ready, the emotionally unavailable, the one who can’t handle a proper rebound. Perhaps, they appear as challenges, as something to be achieved. Hence, their inevitable fall always come so suddenly. During those months, I felt defeated. I knew what I was getting myself into and still my world felt like it has just collapsed. As a kid, I always wonder why dark pitch bloody November comes before fun snowy Merry December. It took me four lonely Novembers to realize that it’s a month of climax. Life’s last throw of plot twist before you can start sipping hot chocolate with marshmallows in a December fireplace.
by bleakfantasies, writing prompt #66: Write about November
stormborns
titsay
areudirty
2087
theartofmadeline
amandla
gracieabrams
kianamaiart
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
discoholicmusic
andulkaphoto
blakekathryn
