girl, interpreted

I nervously twirl my ring around my finger as I sit down next to you. I have this feeling of owing you something that I actually don’t, and I have to remind myself.

There’s an innate passive-aggressive way of dealing with these things, like that’s what we’re used to. Like that’s our main form of communication, even though we have a choice.

I’ve lost count of the many ways you’ve jumped to conclusions without me. And I try to remind myself how that usually plays out. I wonder if you’re aware.

At a time, we were running away. But I’m unsure where to or from what. Do you think you know me?

So as I sit here next to you, wondering what to say, I come up empty. If you conclude, then what is there left for me to say? Do you even care? I think the answer to that is why I’m lost for words.