bekaaaaaboo
Everything she said was the common thing to say. Its not your fault. Its my fault. I did it. But then she blamed me. I didn't understand why, if this was such a common break up that she wouldn't just place the blame on one of us instead of going back and forth.
She left the kite in the trunk of my car like some reminder of, oh hey, remember? We used to have so much fun together. But oh, hey, remember how you used to cut me down all the time? Like a kite with a broken string.
The balloon, itself was nothing special. But its black shade and its ominous floating with a group of other balloons over the house in an arch looked like an announcement for a funeral.
I never understood the meaning of it all. Why she loved me. Why I loved her. It was an endless, self-destructive cycle where the only thing keeping us together was the petrifying fear of sleeping alone. That fake orgasm wasn't enough to make me love her, but it wasn't enough to make me leave her either.