Sometimes you just gotta move on from your hangups...
(A writing exercise to practice my dialogue.)
(For the record: "Peep" is a reference to an analogy I once made; of someone who is grainy on the outside, but squishy and unsure on the inside.)
”What the fuck are you doing?”
I didn’t bother looking up from my computer screen, and instead continued clicking through pictures. Tears stung in my eyes, but I continued going through the pages without replying to Katrina.
She leaned over my shoulder, and saw what I was looking at- then promptly smacked me, hard, across the face.
“Are you serious, Lola?” She spun me so I was facing her. One finger jabbed at the computer monitor, and the five on her other hand gathered the front of my hoodie so she could pull me closer. “Are you really doing this to yourself? Going through her Myspace pictures just to get depressed? Don’t tell me it’s because you’re her friend; cause honey, she deleted you the minute that boy changed his relationship status.” I stared at her, unsure how she could be doing what she apparently was- reading my actions for face value. I opened my mouth to reply, but she continued; releasing me, and scrolling down the page.
“So what’s the excuse, honey? Because, honestly, I can’t think of a reason you’d be going through his ex’s pictures.” There was a slight pause as Kat turned around, and stared at me, hard. “Do you think you’re not pretty enough? It’s not true. Not in the slightest. Anyone can look hot with the right angle, and this girl is milking that like there’s no tomorrow. Ever look in a mirror, honey? You’re beautiful. If you weren’t, d’you think he’d be constantly telling you that you’re fuckin’ radiant? No, he wouldn’t.” Kat turned the monitor off, and sat on the desk. Cupping my face in her cool hands, her voice dropped to a more soothing tone.
“You don’t have to tell me what I can tell you’re doing, babe, cause I know; cause I used to do it all the time.” She bit her lip, and her eyes dropped to her lap. “And you think he still loves her, or thinks about her or some bullshit like that. And maybe it’s true, but comparing yourself to her isn’t going to change that. He loves you, pretty girl, and what happened before shouldn’t make a damned difference. So what if he talks to her sometimes? You talk to your exes. Does that mean you miss them?” There was a silence, and I lifted my head.
“Maybe you’re right…” I murmured, “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything…”
“You’re damned right. Who’s he with, babe? You. Not her, you. He’s a smart boy; he wouldn’t be with someone just for the sake of not being single, and he if he liked her more, than he’d be with her. Things happen for a reason, hon.” Kat stood, and walked towards the door of the den.
“One more thing,” she called back over her shoulder, “If I catch you on that girl’s page again, I’m going to slap you ‘til you don’t even know what a computer is. Understood?”
My hand, originally hovering over the mouse, dropped to my lap. Kat turned, and stared me down.
She smiled, and then ruffled my hair. “Now, say you’re pretty.”
“I’m pretty,” I replied in a monotone. She grinned, and skipped out the door.
“That’s what I like to hear!”