I fucking hate him, the arrogant prick.

With his passionate swagger, intentional tardiness, and aloof personality, he imprisons my mind, laughing and smiling his way through my friends, crushing my patience with a vice grip he turns like a teamster while I reassure myself about inner strength.

It was years ago now, but like the cliche goes, it seems like yesterday.  Some things you remember, your first kiss, your first best friend, your greatest enemy. Especially if, your enemy returns none of your ill will in poor favor.  But it happened, and I am not forgetting, as he probably has.  So I watch him, pretend I am not, and illicit his name in the face of silence.  I manufacture his emotions in my own self psychiatry and let myself drown in his unintentional disregard.

I know that in time, his shadow will blur in my ideas, and the key to my parole will come with the experience of absence.  But for now, I watch and I listen, for something to justify my anger, and resolve my delirius fantasies.  I am almost commanded to anticipate, for only in anticipation can I control our past.