Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Not Your Type

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
The bitter taste of alcohol slips into my mouth as his lips press drunkenly against mine. It’s sloppy, and slow, and unexciting, but the only thing that matters to me in this moment is that he’s not you.

He’s no you, and she’s no me. He isn’t filling my ears with smooth lies, and she’s not calling you out on them. He’s simple and safe, not you. She’s simple and easy, not me. We’re both in our own comfort zone tonight.

It’s so hard to avoid you. It’s so hard to hide weakness behind a thin layer of strength, but I manage as you look at me confidently slipping your arm around her. Jerk move, your type of move.

I return to him and lay down, this time never touching his lips. We just talk as he holds me gently in his arms. He’s tall and skinny and quiet but none of that matters to me right now. The only thing that matters to me in this moment is that he’s not you.

He’s no you and she’s no me. He’s not pressing his limits on my body, and she’s not stopping you. He’s simple and safe, and she’s simple and easy. I’m safe in the arms of someone who doesn’t drive me crazy. I’m safe in the arms of someone who can’t break past the wall of my heart. You’re easily slipping up the thin layers of her clothing. You’re easily breaking past the walls of her alcohol drowned soul. We’re both in our own comfort zone tonight.

My stomach twists when I see you walk through the door. I’m wrapped awkwardly in his arms, but I try my best to look content. You smile unfazed as you cross the room and slip your mouth close to my ear.

I’m not your type. It’s obvious, but you deny it. There is a girl waiting for you outside of this room, a girl that is your type, a girl that is simple and easy. I’m not your type, and you’re not mine, so why do we pretend there is a chance.

Your lies begin whispering in my ear. Lies I’ve heard, lies I’ve never believed, and lies that have her waiting for you right now, Cold cruel lies.

I’m not your type. You hate it when I say it, but it’s true. I’m complex. I set limits. I tell you no. I do everything that no girl would dare try when it comes to you.

I’m slowly losing him. I’m slowly losing the only thing separating me from you, because alcohol and exhaustion separate him from me. I walk away from the boy lying motionless next to me and see her sleeping in the next room, not even sleeping, just gone. Maybe if we had left our comfort zones tonight we would both be with someone who didn’t pass out before mid-night. Maybe if we had left our comfort zones tonight I’d have you, and you’d have me, and it’d be complex, hard, and dangerous, but at least we’d both be happy.

You walk me to my car and begin talking in that voice that smooth, perfect, adoring voice. You begin talking to me in that smooth, perfect, adoring, manipulating, deceiving, deceptive voice.

I’m not your type. I cringe as each lie you speak to me sounds so sincere.

I’m not your type. I break as I realize how choreographed your perfect words are.

I’m not your type. I wilt at the image of you with your arm draped around her.

I’m not your type. I ache at the thought of leaving you tonight and never knowing when I will hear from you again.

You’re not MY type. Your words break me, you’re actions shatter me, you destroy me.

Games, games, games, all we do is play games. If we cared, we wouldn’t play games. If I was your type, you wouldn’t play games. You confuse me with these games, but not in a unique kind of confusion, but more in the “who does that” kind of confusion. Who does do that? You. You do that. You play games with me. You play dirty, you play to win. You’ll do anything to win. You don’t care about me. You’ll hurt me if that’s what it takes, if that’s what it takes for you to win.

Game over. He’s no you and she’s no me, but you’re not my type and I’m not yours.



Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback