There would always be something angry about the rain despite how it would look. Today wasn't any different. The day had started off calm, and of course, there were the sporadic grays in the skies that rather reflected my mood. Now, the downpour was steady against the windows, and seeing both of you again after all these months, the sober rain transformed to one of turbulence. This was one of those times that I'd rather not have come to these occassional rendezvous. It was infinitely awkward to see two guys that I had come to be fond of in the same setting. I couldn't be sure which stirred me more: his familiar, laidback expression, or your unusual jerky body language that ascribed to some nameless guilt that only I could notice. I was uncharacteristically sombre but everybody didn't quite notice, chattering excitedly about some joke and laughing about. I was expecting that he was the source of this uneasiness, the unfamiliar familiarity grating the senses like how it usually does when you get to speak to somebody that you haven't seen for some time and finding the interaction plain gauche. But, no. It had to be you. I know this because I was much more aware of your closeness when you noncommittally nudged me, and if I may boldly add, affectionately. And I hated it. I had to be angry again because you were not supposed to have affected me this way. No, not anymore. Not when you moved away and left me out on some secret that shouldn't have been. Oh, they have a name for this thing, too: bitterness, at its grandest ardor.
December 17, 2008
the comeback.
There would always be something angry about the rain despite how it would look. Today wasn't any different. The day had started off calm, and of course, there were the sporadic grays in the skies that rather reflected my mood. Now, the downpour was steady against the windows, and seeing both of you again after all these months, the sober rain transformed to one of turbulence. This was one of those times that I'd rather not have come to these occassional rendezvous. It was infinitely awkward to see two guys that I had come to be fond of in the same setting. I couldn't be sure which stirred me more: his familiar, laidback expression, or your unusual jerky body language that ascribed to some nameless guilt that only I could notice. I was uncharacteristically sombre but everybody didn't quite notice, chattering excitedly about some joke and laughing about. I was expecting that he was the source of this uneasiness, the unfamiliar familiarity grating the senses like how it usually does when you get to speak to somebody that you haven't seen for some time and finding the interaction plain gauche. But, no. It had to be you. I know this because I was much more aware of your closeness when you noncommittally nudged me, and if I may boldly add, affectionately. And I hated it. I had to be angry again because you were not supposed to have affected me this way. No, not anymore. Not when you moved away and left me out on some secret that shouldn't have been. Oh, they have a name for this thing, too: bitterness, at its grandest ardor.
