𝐢 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

I had a bad trait.

Whenever I was let down by something that I liked, I would stop liking that thing right in that moment regardless of how much I had been invested in it before.

I was obsessed with trains until the start of middle school, but because the production of a collector edition locomotive that I had been waiting a year for was canceled, that was the last time trains had ever been talked about in the house.

Mom said it was a bad trait to have, because no matter what things were bound to let us down in some way, and in the end we should have at least tried to see all the good times that we’d had and we could’ve had in the future with it. But even though the toy company had launched more collector editions that I had to admit were better than the ones I wanted, I still couldn’t find it in myself to buy them. It was like I had cut off the rope holding my obsession with trains in a snap. So I told Mom that if things didn’t find it hard to let me down, then it shouldn’t have been a problem if I didn’t find it hard to let them go either.

That was why after I had waited for Irene Bae for over an hour and tried to reach her through her phone—god only knows how many times I had called her—in vain, I finally decided that I’d had enough of her and went home with an empty stomach while trying not to mind the heaviness inside my chest.

-

Once I got home, I immediately seek solace in the comfort of my blanket and Pringles. At moments like this, I was grateful my parents were rarely ever home. Today would’ve been worse if I had to deal with Mom’s nagging about why I was suddenly being a grouchy pants even though I had been ‘too fine’ this morning when I told her she didn’t need to prepare my lunch.

I wished it was that easy to shake off this weight on my chest though. It had been a long time since I last was let down by someone. I'd almost forgotten how exhausting it could be emotionally and—eventually—physically.

I didn’t even know why I was this disappointed by her absence. She was just a random girl—a very pretty random girl—who I thought could’ve been an addition to my very short list of friends. It might be because she was the only one who had come this far, and was also the only one who had caught my eyes. I was still a weak lesbian in the end, and I blamed it on my raging hormones for making me not able to think properly. I had just known her and no matter how much she tried to tell me she really wanted to be friends with me, I should’ve known better than to believe everything she told me right away. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up and myself hurt.

I knew Mom was right. Things were bound to let us down. But why did I have to always be the one trying to look past the hurt and move on? It was understandable with inanimate objects, but with living, breathing, and thinking beings? If I had to forgive and forget, why couldn’t they just try not to let me down in the first place? We wouldn’t have had a problem if they hadn’t said things they didn’t mean and made plans they had no intention in doing, right?

And my irritated mood latched onto me as I watched the sun slowly being replaced from the windows of my bedroom with my sketchbook opened on my lap. The smooth velvety voice of Matthew Healy accompanied by the lo-fi music filled my bedroom with a pleasant v