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i.

It’s been far too long. I guess time flies when you’re trying to forget. Sometimes I really miss you (I’m lying.)

(But part of me wishes I wasn’t.)

Remember when I went to your 7th birthday party, and that little girl was there? Maybe she was 6. I told you I thought she liked you. I was 8. We were just a mess of kids, back then. I wish you hadn’t said ‘I doubt it.’ I wish it hadn’t gotten so out of hand. I wish our parents had never become friends, and I wish my sister didn’t like yours so much.

iii.

You told me to go online, and look up our names. Emily means to Excel, to Strive, or Rival. We laughed together, and asked each other who would be my rival some day. Nicholas meant Victory of the People. We were too young to understand that, weren’t we? We tried all your nicknames (But those came up as the same thing.) Oh well. It’s still a memory.

v.

Do you remember, that one day, we ran from our sisters. They chased us with makeup brushes, and hair curlers. I was just one of the boys. We climbed the tree in your front yard, going half way up until the branches got too thin to hold us. (We never should have gone up there.) We got the sap on us, and laughed about it. It got in my hair. (But when I came over the next day with short hair, I told you I felt like a change.)

Why didn’t I hear the branch crack?

I knocked out two of my teeth that day. You shrugged it off and began to sing fairy tale songs. I didn’t sing with you. The blood was running down my chin.
I didn’t complain.

(I have a high pain tolerance, and I wasn’t about to wimp out to you.)

I know that you were my rival.

vii.

Middle school was different, now wasn’t it? We stopped speaking that year. Maybe I out grew you. (Maybe vice versa.) Then the move came, and I was gone before the leaves fell in autumn. We didn’t speak again.

It was never love.

[It was just one of those stupid fucking crushes.]

So, don’t lie to me. Don’t stand there in your pretty, designer jeans and cotton shirt and tell me you miss me. I’ll stay at the other end of the room, and we’ll pretend we don’t know each other.
We aren’t rivals anymore, no, not those competitive children.

Now we’re just strangers.

‘I don’t even know who that boy is.’

[I can say it honestly, now.]
©2009 ~zigzagzero
:iconzigzagzero:

Author's Comments

The title is what it is because at first, I wanted it to read 'rivals' then i wanted 'rivals and strangers.'

but no, then I remembered that we're just strangers.

[Those brand name labels of yours will only get you so far.]

Comments


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:iconkyonkitchi:
I like it

But why is there no ii.?

--
Courage is being scared to death, but doing it anyway.
:iconpicturesofgrandma:
that ashley
i think your poem is too good for ii
:iconzigzagzero:
just a style. i skipped every other number.

--
(248): I just had someone call me out on a walk of shame via megaphone
:iconkyonkitchi:
Did you really?

That's the only one I caught...

--
Courage is being scared to death, but doing it anyway.
:iconzigzagzero:
don't question it.

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(248): I just had someone call me out on a walk of shame via megaphone
:iconkyonkitchi:
MAYBE I WANT TO QUESTION IT.

:iconiseewhatyoudidthere:

--
Courage is being scared to death, but doing it anyway.
:iconzigzagzero:
.......................................................:iconwaggleplz:

--
(248): I just had someone call me out on a walk of shame via megaphone
:iconkyonkitchi:
:iconleleleplz:

--
Courage is being scared to death, but doing it anyway.
:iconzigzagzero:
You know who would've totally laughed at that?




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:icontaylorswiftplz:

--
(248): I just had someone call me out on a walk of shame via megaphone

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