i told myself i would never take the time to write about one person in particular again.
i told myself that i would never write about one being again because it allowed them to become significant.
i wanted to be as cold and distant towards these people so i did not rely on anyone.
i wanted to convince myself that i didn't need specific people to make me feel confidence and joy,
that one person didn't matter more than the other,
because i knew people walked in and out, like passengers on elevator rides, some engaging in small talk, others exchanging gazes not knowing one day they'll be lovers, and others just side by side, staring at their feet, in hopes they won't have to interact and just arrive to the floor they pushed the button for.
i spoke these words to myself because i saw what i didn't want to become, i saw a wreck of emotions, a wild hurricane with a drink in her hand, a ***** tonic one night and a stella the next.
the way she lived was convincing herself she was put together, living for herself, and nobody else, but in reality she clung onto people, hoping they would go along her windy journey,
and when the people with potential left, rain came out of her eyes, storms so heavy, tropical depressions at the steering wheel, car seat covered in tears, a cloud over her head for days, and drinks became medicine.
i was a spectator, sitting on sidelines, listening through walls, hearing storms at midnight, witnessing side effects from her self medication, and i clung onto these thoughts, telling myself i'd never be like her, remembering everything was an elevator ride, and no one was here to stay, and it's nothing personal when someone gets off at a different floor.