Soo thanks to my parents really old computer the poem I though I posted is not in fact up. Anyway here's something else I'm working on. It's not done yet. And it's not very good. But something posted is better than nothing.

“It’s my anxiety Ellie, the anxiety.”

Anxiety isn’t an excuse to be such an exhausting prick, I think to myself.

“My life is a mess Ellie. My mom, Kelsey, Aubrey, and I never met my dad! They’ve all damaged me. You don’t get it. No one does. I’m just so messed up.” Joe rattled on.

So this is it. Three long months of driving him around, buying him lunch when he had no money, doing his laundry. All to be dumped for his ex-girlfriend, who is apparently, just that special. And to top is all off, he’s not even apologizing. It’s just the same old sob story. Poor Joe had a hard life. Poor Joe has anxiety. Poor Joe is an irrefutable jackass.

I stopped listening somewhere in between when he said “she makes me feel like I’ve never felt before” and when he proclaimed “she is my soul mate”. How cliché. For someone who calls himself a writer, he isn’t very clever with words.

I look around his bedroom. It’s a mess. His clothes are strewn on the floor, bed, and hanging on the back of the door. I’m sure if I asked him he’d say that they were there to dry. His bed is unmade, and its apparent to me by bra that’s half under the pillow he wasn’t alone last night, as he had been claiming earlier.

I glance up and look at the poster on the wall. That poster was one of the reasons I fell so hard for him. There on the bedroom wall of a 23year-old man is an illustration from Where the While Things Are, my all time favorite children’s book. I stare at it. The happy child is frolicking with his beastly companions. I should have known then that no normal guy hangs pictures from children’s books on their walls.

I look back at him, snapping to attention.

“Ellie, there’s one more thing”.

“What’s that?” I reply.

“Well, the thing is, Kelsey goes to school here. I just don’t want things to be awkward if you see her. If you see us.” he began to stammer a little “…you know, together.”

I just starred at him. I knew what he was asking me. He had confided a lot in me these past three months (2 weeks, and four days, but whose counting). He told me enough to write a book of my own, really. If I ever had the energy to sit down and put it on paper, which I doubt I would, I could call it Confessions of a College Sociopath or perhaps The Hipster’s Guide to Anxiety. Or maybe not, those are terrible titles. Then again I’m not the writer. Anyhow this doesn’t really matter I think trying to clear my head.

He just looks at me waiting for my response. He’s waiting for a promise. A confirmation. A smoke signal. Anything from me saying that I won’t tell Kelsey what I know.

I just look at him and smirk. Then without guilt or hesitation I respond by saying…

“Sure. Whatever.”

Damn!, I think. That is not at all what I wanted to say. I wanted to say something like “Awkward for me? Not a chance. You on the other hand are going be a little more uncomfortable when I tell her…” Well I lost my chance.

A look of relief spreads over his face.

“Good. I mean I wouldn’t want you to feel weird or anything.”

“Thanks for the concern” I reply, trying very hard to sound icy. “Well if that’s it, I better go.”

“Ok, sure. See you around?” Joe says.

“Maybe” I respond.

I walk out his bedroom door. Take a left on down the hallway. Walk down the rickety old stair case, through the living room, trying to avoid his roommates. I walk out the front door, hop into my car. And then I loose it. My eyes well with tears. I feel the saline stinging my cheeks. I take a deep breath, turn on my car and head home.

Why didn’t I listen to Caitlyn. Or Dan. Or Rich. Or Melissa. Or Anyone for that matter. I told them that I was a fine judge of character, and Joe was a great person who had a hard life.

When I told people about what he did to his ex-girlfriend, they would gasp in horror. Telling me to “get out now”. But what did they know. I knew that he had anxiety attacks. I knew that he had been seeing someone. He had made a mistake, we all make mistakes.

As I drive I begin to fantasize about what I would say if I saw them together. I would see them on the opposite side of a faded crosswalk. I would walk right up to them and say brightly…

“Hi Kelsey! I’m the girl Joe here was dating when you came back into the picture! You are not going to believe what he told me!”

If only, I think.

I notice I’m almost home. I take the right onto my street, and then the left into the driveway. I get out of the car, and wipe my cheeks. I don’t want my parents to know that I’ve been crying.

When I get inside I go straight to my computer. Not taking the time to pat my dog, or to say hello to my father. I sit at my desk, and move the mouse until the screen lights up.

If he can write so can I, I muse. I mean I have all the material to write a really good novel. I know it’s not fiction, but with a few name changes, and location swaps, I bet he won’t even recognize the story. Not that he would read it. Not that anyone will ever read it.