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just wasn’t thirsty

27 Dec

I was doing my homework, barely working, faking it so that I could watch Fireman with his friends, Fireman so cool, so smart, so much everything that only made me so much less. A week or a month had passed since I was so overly dramatic, since I cried in the bathroom because I thought I should, since I let him sit there alone feeling like a jerk because I thought he should, since I decided I’d hurt him most by never speaking to him again. And it wasn’t working, and I was hurt and seventeen, and I wanted so badly to scream. Artist was always there. He helped me with my math homework, used good mechanical pencils, sat next to me when I was trying to be most pitiful. And he wanted me to go to the drinking fountain once, wanted me to get up and go there with him. Kept asking if I was thirsty, and didn’t want for me to say no again. But I did, and I never understood why it was so important.

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