I walked into English about 3 minutes late, hoping no one would notice. Especially you. But the fact that you sit across from me doesn’t help, and within 5 minutes you noticed my tearstained face and smeared mascara. You looked at me with what I hoped was just a little concern, but what I knew was lust, and asked me what was wrong.

I laughed. I found it quite funny that now you decide to ask what’s wrong. After hurting me, lying to me, cheating on me, now you realize something’s wrong?

How could I tell you that seeing you everyday, happy with her, acting like nothing happened between us, kills me inside? How could I tell you that I still love you? That I miss you? How could I possibly put into words all the misery, hopelessness, and rage I’m feeling? I can’t describe the way that utter despair feels.

So instead I look into your perfect brown eyes,
“Nothing. I’m fine.”