Bulletproof.
This time, baby...
I stare into the mirror at my own reflection in poor light, wondering how I got to look so awful. Dark bags under my eyes, skin pale and hair hanging lank and greasy from my head. God, I look a state. I look across the room and everything is dim, shrouded in shadow. I’d turn the light on but the bulb went last night. I haven’t opened the curtains in days.
I make my way across my bedroom, stumbling over a few discarded cans and pizza boxes on the way. I groan and rub at one of my eyes. This is getting bad. My whole room’s becoming an actual rubbish tip, and it’s starting to smell. In fact, so am I.
My eyes linger on a photo on the floor, that until last Friday night was on the wall. I ripped it down and stamped on it on the floor in anger. It’s a photo of you and me, Lee. Your hair practically glows in that picture- I remember you saying that it’d probably fuck the flash up because it was so bright. I just laughed and kissed you on the nose, telling you how beautiful you were with your hair blond.
Looking at it, I screw my face up and glare. I’ve gone past the point of wanting to cry about you now. Whenever I get you in my mind it’s just a dull sort of ache. I guess it had to stop hurting someday. How many times have you trashed me? How many times have you slipped your arms around my waist when I’m drunk and dancing, knowing I can’t resist? How many times have I been dumb enough to believe that we might work out?
My phone buzzes from my pillow where I left it. I can’t even be bothered to answer it. It’ll just be Stu. He keeps calling, trying to persuade me to get out of the house. I don’t see the point. We’ll just go to some bar and get drunk. I can get drunk here if I want to, and this way no one’s going to make me feel guilty for being unhappy. Fuck it.
I know I’m being a bit stupid. I’m only seventeen, and it isn’t really the end of the world if you don’t want me. But it hurts, for this to happen again. Why do I keep letting you in? You’ve convinced me time after time to take you back. Even when I knew you’d slept with Ian- one of my best friends. Even after you sent naked pictures of me to Sean Smith, only the biggest fourteen year old pervert on the planet! Even after countless dates where you stood me up, or turned up with no money. After you flirted with so many damn guys right in front of me, just in bars or clubs or sometimes even just at lunch, when you’d come over from your college and I’d come from mine.
Actually, it’s a damn good question. Why have I been putting up with this for so long? Why do I keep obediently swallowing down the lies you feed me? I frown more and fold my arms defensively, looking down at the photo of you. You’re gorgeous, of course you are- but you’re not the only attractive person in the world. You’re not doing anything real with your life. Media? Fuck off, you’re not even going to finish that course and we all know it.
There’s nothing you have that I even need in my life, really, is there? I don’t need your lies. I don’t need your cynicism lacing everything I mention. I don’t need your arms snaking around my waist, even if the thought of you touching me turned me into jelly once upon a time. I don’t need the stress you bring me- I don’t need anything you give me. If there’s anything I do need, I’m sure I can get it off someone else.
In fact, I will get it off someone else. Every time we break up I go out with Stu on the pull, to bars. We sink shot after shot and I end up dancing stupidly to the music they play while Stu pulls girls effortlessly. You somehow always manage to sidle up, sneak those arms around me, turn me around and make me yours again. You shoot me down each and every time, with those poisonous soft lies and glowing eyes of yours.
Not this time. I’m wrenching back my curtains and letting in the night glow of the moon. I stare out of the window and I can see the entire city lit up by night. It looks exciting. There’s so much to explore. I can’t just shut it away. There are so many people there. There’s bars with glitzy, trashy lighting, fairgrounds with too-bright colours and tacky pictures adorning them. There’s moonlight illuminating this city from millions of miles away, making silver ripple through the water of the river.
It’s ridiculous to think that your eyes are the best lights in this city. We’re dead, Lee Gaze, but I am not.
I grab my phone and call my best friend up. While I’m waiting for him to pick up, I decide on what clothes to wear out tonight, once I’ve showered. I don’t care if I haven’t slept properly all week. I’m not sleeping when I could be busy finding someone or something that’s better than you. Life’s too short for me to stop.
Oh, I’m sure you’ll still be there. Hanging around in the background, waiting around in the wings. Slyly, quietly creeping your way into people’s lives and hearts. You might even try and get back into mine… you’ll shoot at me with soft touches, sweet phrases, with those big baby blues that conceal your personality so well.
Go ahead and do it, I say, but be prepared to never have me in anything more than your sights again. Because this time, love, it’s different.
This time baby, I’ll be bulletproof.
I make my way across my bedroom, stumbling over a few discarded cans and pizza boxes on the way. I groan and rub at one of my eyes. This is getting bad. My whole room’s becoming an actual rubbish tip, and it’s starting to smell. In fact, so am I.
My eyes linger on a photo on the floor, that until last Friday night was on the wall. I ripped it down and stamped on it on the floor in anger. It’s a photo of you and me, Lee. Your hair practically glows in that picture- I remember you saying that it’d probably fuck the flash up because it was so bright. I just laughed and kissed you on the nose, telling you how beautiful you were with your hair blond.
Looking at it, I screw my face up and glare. I’ve gone past the point of wanting to cry about you now. Whenever I get you in my mind it’s just a dull sort of ache. I guess it had to stop hurting someday. How many times have you trashed me? How many times have you slipped your arms around my waist when I’m drunk and dancing, knowing I can’t resist? How many times have I been dumb enough to believe that we might work out?
My phone buzzes from my pillow where I left it. I can’t even be bothered to answer it. It’ll just be Stu. He keeps calling, trying to persuade me to get out of the house. I don’t see the point. We’ll just go to some bar and get drunk. I can get drunk here if I want to, and this way no one’s going to make me feel guilty for being unhappy. Fuck it.
I know I’m being a bit stupid. I’m only seventeen, and it isn’t really the end of the world if you don’t want me. But it hurts, for this to happen again. Why do I keep letting you in? You’ve convinced me time after time to take you back. Even when I knew you’d slept with Ian- one of my best friends. Even after you sent naked pictures of me to Sean Smith, only the biggest fourteen year old pervert on the planet! Even after countless dates where you stood me up, or turned up with no money. After you flirted with so many damn guys right in front of me, just in bars or clubs or sometimes even just at lunch, when you’d come over from your college and I’d come from mine.
Actually, it’s a damn good question. Why have I been putting up with this for so long? Why do I keep obediently swallowing down the lies you feed me? I frown more and fold my arms defensively, looking down at the photo of you. You’re gorgeous, of course you are- but you’re not the only attractive person in the world. You’re not doing anything real with your life. Media? Fuck off, you’re not even going to finish that course and we all know it.
There’s nothing you have that I even need in my life, really, is there? I don’t need your lies. I don’t need your cynicism lacing everything I mention. I don’t need your arms snaking around my waist, even if the thought of you touching me turned me into jelly once upon a time. I don’t need the stress you bring me- I don’t need anything you give me. If there’s anything I do need, I’m sure I can get it off someone else.
In fact, I will get it off someone else. Every time we break up I go out with Stu on the pull, to bars. We sink shot after shot and I end up dancing stupidly to the music they play while Stu pulls girls effortlessly. You somehow always manage to sidle up, sneak those arms around me, turn me around and make me yours again. You shoot me down each and every time, with those poisonous soft lies and glowing eyes of yours.
Not this time. I’m wrenching back my curtains and letting in the night glow of the moon. I stare out of the window and I can see the entire city lit up by night. It looks exciting. There’s so much to explore. I can’t just shut it away. There are so many people there. There’s bars with glitzy, trashy lighting, fairgrounds with too-bright colours and tacky pictures adorning them. There’s moonlight illuminating this city from millions of miles away, making silver ripple through the water of the river.
It’s ridiculous to think that your eyes are the best lights in this city. We’re dead, Lee Gaze, but I am not.
I grab my phone and call my best friend up. While I’m waiting for him to pick up, I decide on what clothes to wear out tonight, once I’ve showered. I don’t care if I haven’t slept properly all week. I’m not sleeping when I could be busy finding someone or something that’s better than you. Life’s too short for me to stop.
Oh, I’m sure you’ll still be there. Hanging around in the background, waiting around in the wings. Slyly, quietly creeping your way into people’s lives and hearts. You might even try and get back into mine… you’ll shoot at me with soft touches, sweet phrases, with those big baby blues that conceal your personality so well.
Go ahead and do it, I say, but be prepared to never have me in anything more than your sights again. Because this time, love, it’s different.
This time baby, I’ll be bulletproof.