Spring

Expect nothing, they say, so you won't be disappointed when it turns out the other way. And that's what I did when I left a party on 420, half drunk, with only a few bucks in my clutch, looking for a cab in my velvet-peach heels at 4 in the morning. It was me at my worst but it was also me at my best when it came to the last chance of saying goodbye before his flight on the next day. Drunken words, sober thoughts, and yet I'd forgotten to leave some cash for myself to go home. I didn't know where I was going and every step felt like a mile but the only thing I did was sending him a text, “its freezin n im on my way 2 c u”. I didn't know where I was going and I didn't know where I'd been. My feet hurt but it was okay because at least I felt something. I got into a cab and I cried as I was telling the driver the address and that my feet was hurting so bad and I asked him if a hundred bucks were enough to reach there because it was all I had. I cried even harder when he said yes, and asked me if I was okay. I said, “I will be.” when I got off the taxi and made my way to the sidewalk where I waited for him. “Are you still cold? Hmm?” He spoke in small, small words, keeping his voice low as if he didn't want to wake the ghosts of our past. It was like a hello and goodbye all at once but there were still so many feelings that I carried and this scene didn't have to be. It was just us, sitting in the dark, and we got nothing left to say - only the beating of our hearts, but one's a drum and the other's a pebble thrown into a lake. It was the first time we felt so disconnected and yet, so close and so familiar. I looked at him and the only thing that came to my mind was the picture of icicles melting under the sun. Beautiful things are so easily destroyed by the world. Beautiful things are so cold. Beautiful things only stay for a season. My feet were hurting, but then another part of me decided to join in. “I don't want to walk the remaining roads with you anymore,” he finally broke the ice. I told myself that I didn't expect anything anyway. So I nodded and jokingly said, “My feet hurt.” He gave me money to go home, and before I left, I said there was no point in seeing each other again in the future and I waited for him to say something. But I guessed he agreed because I watched him walk away in silence. It was 6 when I got home and I told the driver to keep the fucking change. It was me at my worst and it was me at my best. That night I laid in bed as the aftertaste of melted icicles drained into my throat. The only feeling I had was the pain in my feet, and everything else was numb, God, so numb. But for some reasons, it's utterly unbearable to be like this.
I guess expecting nothing can disappoint you just as much.

You can't choose what stays and what fades away