How to say Fuck You and win

*This is an excerpt for an upcoming writing project.

The pub was still open early that morning. People were drinking, chatting and not minding our existence. She sat at the far end of the table. Minus the fear. Unguarded from any form of fear.

Her fingers wouldn’t stop piddling with the keypad. That was the breaking point. As much I wanted to tame myself, I finally let go of the beast and snatched the phone away from her hand.

“Hey! What are you doing? This is so ridiculous.”

“Not being ridiculous.”

“Yes you are!”

“No. I. Am. Not. Especially when Mr. Skinny Mustache here keeps popping like loco on your screen.”

As I try not to smash her phone from reading every message of illicit, fucked up kaputahan and their series of talipandas events, she just obliged.

Look,you came all the way here just so I can see this? You did this on purpose right? You haven’t even fake-hugged me for fuck's sake!"

"Come he--"

"Seriously? God you are something.” 

A lot of things happened. A lot of things I let pass by. Awful things. She didn’t return all the way back to save what was left of us, nor to justify everything she was accounted for. Everything is so messed up and tainted that there was no longer a reason to be frightened. Or to be guilty at all.

Then out of silence, she came back full circle. She loved digging history to use as a flash grenade when she’s out of ammo and in dire need of an escape.

“Remember the time when I saw that ‘tiny’ message on your phone? You’ve honestly never thought of your flings before? What was her name again, Kitty?”

“Well, you’ve never really thought of fucking K?”
“Oh c’mon! After everything?”
“I haven’t.”
“Fine then lie to yourself!”


“Hey keep it down, there’s people --”

Fuck! Fuck everyone! And fuck you too! You wanna know what I think about? I think about how normal and happy my life would’ve been with K. I think about not being so impulsive to agree to meet you on that one lousy Saturday. I think about a world free of your fucking A-ningitis and your craziness, your indecisiveness and all your bullshit! I think back to K and I wish I had the balls to stay bored because honestly, it would be a helluva lot better to whatever the fuck this is and how you made a mess of me. You killed every loving part I had left goddamnit!”

“Sir, excuse me, but your room is okay,” chimed the butler.

Her tears were absolute guilt, and my vindication, a wonderful grit. Man that felt good. Guess it was time to go.


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