A

He says hello Tabatha and tells me I look beautiful tonight. To think I wanted to foreign his existance when he was just 5 metres away from I was. So I ask where his date is and little did I know.. My heart is not beating furiously, it is stopping. It is stopping but I am bleeding, it is stopping but I am feeling. I am being an ice once again. Mr.nonchalant is stepping up, playing his role. He tells me she is in the rest room and I forgot that I had forgotten to say thank you for his compliment, so I say thank you and tell him, to you too, to you too. I smile and try to walk away gracefully.
Mr.nonchalant's scent is still in me and so is the rust and salt from the blood. Now I am thinking, if Mr.nonchalant didn't come, would blushing and faltering completely give me you. Now the thing is, I don't have a time machine and it probably doesn't matter anymore.
I shake off the thought, I shake it off, I shake it harder because it is not getting out of my own personal door, I shake it tremendously and continuously and it is still insisting on pouring tears out of my eyes. I say no and put my foot on the ground and shake my head in discontentment. It is smug and still staying put, so I ignore it and head to the ladies. I take my time to pee, wash my hands and re-apply my lipstick.

I head out, find my seats and calm my nervous, dejected and bleeding self down. I read, divert my attention away but I finally turn and find him and there, shining so brightly he catches my eye. He is laughing along with his concert date on a particular something so I watch him for a few seconds and turn away, promising to not turn back. Waiting patiently, the light dims and Rachael Yamagata finally appears. She's everything gorgeous, almost a goddess, stunning freckles too. Her first song is Elephant and her voice fills the entire theatre allowing us to soak in it. Her voice is haunting and beautiful, the lyrics are aching, my eyes sting and I realise I am in tears. Time creeps up and more words are arising from Elephant and it dawns on me that I... I am heart broken. She sings more depressing songs and I tear, I tear more. Thank goodness, thank goodness I am wearing waterproof mascara. I turn after every song in hope I matter as much too and the truth is I don't, but I turn without fail, only satisfied after seeing him.
I am constantly wiping my tears away that the lady beside me must have been thinking I was this overly emotional, dramatic girl.

The bleeding stops and I get her signature, a photo too and I get my depressed self off the crowd and to the train. Boarding the train feels like a tiresome chore for my messed up self but I board it anyway. I play Rachael on my Ipod again and wonder where he is and repeatedly replay the scene where he told me I was beautiful. Over and Over is playing. I blink and a brim of tears falls unwillingly. People are staring but this sadness is overwhelming and my tough self cannot seem to contain it or resist it anymore, so my tears continue falling with a straight face, praying that I am something and not nothing. They can hardly stand my look anymore and so they turn away, leaving me to welter in my anguish's bottomless of pit.

There is no words to describe or painting to show, so I bathe with swollen eyes and sleep because really, I know that I am not of something for falling in love with guy that assumes I portray nothing of his age. But maybe... What if you get to know me.

I don't think, I am worn out, I sleep.