I pitied him at that moment. The moment he turned and I saw the laughter in his eyes. There was half a smirk on that oh-so-familiar face of his, a face that I had looked into nearly everyday for a year and recieved the most caring vibe from. Those eyes, those poisonous eyes reflected such happiness, such horrendous joy that made my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. That unbearable feeling of ultimate destruction was paralyzing my senses. The audacity he had to stare me in the eye with such a satirical expression had to have been boiling over the very brim of his kettle. For all I had to give, any other typical man would not dare to even flash a glance towards the direction of a fomer partner after something even remotely similiar to our instance happened.

The hatred was so real, oh god it was. I never felt anything like it. It easily dominated the intensity of nearly ever emotion I've ever felt, but in the same instance, I felt weaker and more bleak than I ever had before. I almost felt sorry for myself, considering the fact that I portrayed my being so helpless, so defeated, like I had given up. I felt the walls that I built so high up fall right back down again. I was so ashamed in myself that I couldn't stare back with the intensity of how strong I was going to be, at how determined not to break I was.
I wasn't strong then though; I had lost complete hope in nearly everything. I sank so low that hatred had consumed me so easily. I was overdue for a breakdown, especially because for three months, I tried too hard to build a castle of artificial joy around me. I wanted no one to see me anymore. As cliche as it sounds, I wanted to be happy, you know? I was, I really was. I had the world at my fingertips.

Until I realized I never had the world at all. In fact, the world was sitting right in front of me, glancing at me with that mocking cachinnation stamped all over his face.

And there were the two jousters: the piously satisfied versus the defeated. For such a small amount of time, an intense number of fireworks were sparked.

I hated that boy.

But I was melting on the inside.

The love was so real, oh god it was. It had always been there, and it intensified with every passing day. I was ashamed of myself for that as well, knowing that inside, I honestly just wanted to lay my head on his shoulder again. My sense of security was lost, as was my fair sense of judgement of right and wrong, and what would make things better or worse. I was teetering on the edge of existence in my mind. I was playing tug of war with myself, in a match where regardless of what side won, I would still end up in a puddle of mud.

And so I knew not of what emotion the tears that came to my eyes displayed. I told myself not to look up, but I couldn't stop watching the movements he made with his lips, or the way he moved his eyes...my eyes. He was mine; I was his. It had been written in stone, and I was so sure of it.

I never believed in that whole "love makes you blind" thing I always read about in books and watched in movies, at least, not until it happened to me.

What a journey I had ahead of me.