I sit on a wood porch and attempt to distract myself from the fact I will never be the protagonist no matter how many times I rewrite the story. I have long since stopped believing in heroes. Yet there is this one person who gave me credit for not even trying anymore. Maybe because he isn't either.
Everyone lies, he says, but I tell you when I lie.
Oh I feel special.
And you should.
Yeah, I wrote the recipe so yes, I will admit to being a girl and believing in some kind of weird crazy she is taking the taxi across the bridge and he is chasing her on a motorcycle and there is that moment when he catches her and you roll your eyes.
In the story with nobody else there to witness
nobody was looking so I could
yes, I know (fuck you, kiss my ass)
Special huh? Yes, that is quite special.