Cynical

I wonder if you heard my heart hit the floor during our class together when the teacher said the word cynical.

I wonder if you saw my eyes leave the classroom and focus on a memory of us together: “I would consider myself to be a cynical badass.”

“I would say you’re just an asshole.” I reply laughing deeply. That moment should have been a warning for me. I should have known.

“Well maybe, but cynical badass makes it sound better.” You look back at me with that same sparkle in your eye that you always have when you talk to me. I think it was that sparkle that gave me the wrong idea.

Cynical- “concerned only with one’s own interests”

Badass- “a tough, uncompromising, or intimidating person”

Intimidating? No. God, no. You were so far from intimidating to me.

I wonder if you could feel my muscles grow weak at the word cynical. This is just a history class, but I can’t even type my notes properly now.

I glance over to you to see if you’re hearing, feeling, and seeing what I am. But the way your head turns to look at me and quickly darts away, tells me that you don’t.

I think that’s what hurts most. That you don’t show any emotion towards how I feel after all of this. It hurts that you were right. You are cynical. You are, maybe, a badass. But most of all, you are an asshole. And I love you.

So I guess, in some way, I was right too. I knew you would leave and you told me that you wouldn’t. But you did. And now I’m left here wishing that you could feel my love reaching out to you.

I don’t know what to do. Some days I think I’m getting better, but then it all turns to shit and I’m crying in class because the teacher said the word cynical while describing the government during the stock market crash.

But people will still tell me, it will get better.