|If You Were My Girlfriend
Author: tjw613 PM
If you were my girlfriend, I'd want you here with me right now... Then again, I want you here with me anyways. I miss you.Rated: Fiction K - English - Romance/Friendship - Words: 827 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Published: 10-07-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3063711
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Just a little second-person writing exercise I did, hope you enjoy!
You're sitting in a coffee shop, looking around. There's nothing really interesting going on. Just the norm: people coming and going, buying a hot drink before going out to brave the rain again. It's late afternoon. You've been sitting there for a while now. You're trying to write something; anything, but nothing's coming to mind. It was a contest. Write a plot for a pair of lovers from beginning to end for a music video. Whichever story they liked best would be chosen. That's what you were trying to do. At this point, you've been in writer's block for a while now, so any idea that came to mind would have sufficed.
A young couple stumbling in from the rain, laughing, catches your eye. They're young; teenagers probably. They order their drinks and he gives her a playful glare when she tries to pay for her own. In turn, she blushes a little and smiles. They make their way over to a table and sit down. There's someone already there who greets the boy. The boy introduces the girl, "This is my friend. She came back from college for winter break recently."
You think you catch the tiniest flash of sadness in her eyes when he says that. But perhaps it's just your imagination playing tricks on you. No, it's not your imagination. It's your memories. You're remembering someone looking into your eyes saying, "If you were my girlfriend…" You stop chewing on the end of your pen and begin to write.
At some point, you realize that you're only writing about your memories; your own secret feelings for a boy from long ago. You realize that that girl, sitting there at the table with the two boys was once you. You stop and think for a moment. Is it really a good idea to be making this so personal? But the memories are coming: too many, too fast. You continue to write.
Some days later, you look over what you've written again. You decide to put more emphasis on the actions or the events rather than giving much insight into your thoughts. Let the actions speak for themselves. Take the affection from his eyes when he kissed you on the cheek and said, "I'll be back soon." Remove the emotion from the words "I miss you."
When you finished editing, you realized something else: this story of yours didn't have a happy ending. In fact, at this point, it didn't have an ending at all. It just faded into nothing.
Your phone rings. That's strange, there aren't that many people who call you at this time of day. You pick up your phone and stare at the screen before realizing that the person who was calling was the person you were writing about. It's like your heart tripped over a fallen tree and realized there was a bear chasing it, with the way it skipped a beat and was now racing, pounding in your ears. Thank god, this was only a phone call. You're convinced you've turned completely red by now. You answer, trying to sound composed and nonchalant, "Hello stranger, haven't heard from you in a while. How's it been?"
A few minutes into the conversation and you find yourself politely declining the invitation, stating that you're not going to be in the area during that time. You hang up, trying to forget the dejected sound in his voice. Really, it wasn't your fault. It was something that you'd rather not put yourself through. It didn't matter that he was your best friend. You weren't going to put yourself through the torture of attending his wedding.
You sit there numbly for a few more minutes, contemplating the absurdity of it all. You were writing a story, and you didn't have an ending, and now you did. Except now, you're not sure if you wanted an ending at all. You continue writing, this time pouring everything you have into it. You're trying desperately to get all the emotions and feelings down on paper before they start pouring from your eyes.
Then, just like that, you send it off. You don't want to read it again. You didn't even care if you spelled words with three consonants in a row anymore. It didn't matter. You just wanted to be done with it so you could curl up in a ball of misery for a few hours before you get up and go on with your life, pretending like everything's okay. But you know that it won't. And when the music video comes out, he'll know too.
Thank you for reading! Please review~!