I Don’t Love You, from the album The Black Parade, by My Chemical Romance. This is for Cookie, but I’m not sure if I should give it to her, cause it’s angst… well, anyways, err… right. 🙂
She walks into the room, head held high. Why? Because she doesn’t have the guts to turn her head, to look him in the eye. So she chooses to imitate guts. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, but it is the lowest form of self-respect.
He stands up, in front of her. Right in front of her. Tall and intimidating. He forces her to look at him. And so she does. She looks up, at a man she will forever look down upon.
She takes deep breathes. Calmly, smoothly. “Get out.” Easily.
I don’t think so. ” He smirks. He still dares to smirk! After what he did!
She takes deeper breathes, calmly, smoothly. ” Well, when you go, don’t ever think I’ll make you stay.” Harshly.
“Hah, and what? Maybe when I get back, you’ll be off, to ‘find another way’? You? Really? Hah! Just hah!” He laughs bitterly. That’s how he shows his feelings, particularly the negative ones. He shows them through one way, and one way only. And she hated that.
She pushes him, he did not expect that. But he was a man expected of people to expect everything. Everything. So that was not a good moment for him. He stands there, stunned for approximately 3 seconds.
She pokes him with her index finger. Angrily. She shouts, yells, everything, and he still doesn’t care. “After all this time you still owe, you’re still a good-for-nothing I don’t know.” She goes to the closet, throws out everything. Everything. A few photos fall out. There she is again. She’s everywhere.
She wipes the invisible tears with the back of her hands, she looks at her hands, rough, boney, and to think she was being a ‘maid’, I’m sorry, ‘wife’ to someone she didn’t know. She worked. And she worked hard.
And he just stands there, idly, as if nothing happened. She was just a ‘friend’. She carries the clothes, a whole stack of them, it weighed as much as her. And throws them onto the boy, the stranger, the person, who has no rights to call himself a ‘man’.
He catches them, because he expected it this time, a triumphant expression on his face. She wanted to claw his eyes out.
He throws them down onto the floor.
“Keep them, honey. I already have my things packed. ” He turns around swiftly, bending down to pick up a case.
“Wait.” She was starting to sob. He turns back, smiling. Disgusting.
“You forgot this. She would look so nice with it.” She pulled the gold band off her finger, marks were to be seen. It didn’t even fit. She forced it to. She was sure, she was so sure that it would fit her so perfectly. She walks up to him and puts it in his hand. He closes his fingers around hers. She pulls away, without hesitation. He packs his bags, smiles and waves goodbye, hoping for her to forgive him? That idiot.
“I’ll send her your warmest regards.” He stares at her. She whimpers.He turns around, yet again, how many times? Just how many? She still remembers, all the times, all the pleading, she still cries from them. And he notices this. And he turns back to her. Again. Yet. Again.
“Baby, when they knock you, down and out, it’s where you ought to stay.” He smiles so venomously. So… Cold. It makes her shiver.
When you turn, would you even have the guts to say, ” I don’t love you, like I did yesterday”?
Turning, he turns so much, he changes, so much, so many times. Which one is the true him? The one who cares? The one who pretends to care? The one who kills with a glare? Maybe the one with the get-back stare? Maybe… That is him. The one, who is constantly turning, changing, not caring. Most essentially, as he says, he is a business man, and personal matters are not to be mixed with business matters. And as far as she knows, he is oblivious to all personal matters. Even ‘her’, she is just business. Purely business.
He walks out the door, out of her life, if he was ever in her life. Just like that. Just. Like. That.
“Darling,” she smiles as he walks away. She regains herself. “I don’t love you, like I loved you, yesterday.”