yadda yadda yadda

I know we’re doing the same thing…

Waiting for the other to make contact.

And it’s silly, really.

Especially cuz we both know I’m not gonna break first.

I keep looking at my phone. Not LOOKING really, but just GLANCING, maybe sending it a telepathic message of sorts telling it to make some kinda noise.

And I just KNOW we’re doing the same thing.

I sit down and talk to myself. “Self,” I say to me, “you’re being silly. Really, this is just juvenile. Does it matter who says something first?”
Then my other self, my prideful self, says, “BITCH SIT DOWN!!!”

So I do what’s most logical.

I clean.

But I’m WATCHING my phone. GLANCING, really. Not even a glance more like a nonchalant noticing, like, oh look! My phone.

The chime sounds signaling I’ve received a text. I smile, all smug, just knowing where it came from.
Not so much.

So, I text my mom back, and I keep cleaning, my stupid phone stupidly silent, annoyingly dark.

That bastard always hated me.
The phone I mean.

I put some new sheets on my bed. Cuz, you know, even though I changed them a few days ago they should be fresh, yes?
*ahem*

This is silly really. I KNOW we’re both doing the same thing. We’re both so damn stubborn. The knowledge makes me smile bittersweetly, almost a cringe. Oh, bother.

I almost wanna turn off my phone, just so it won’t torture me. ALMOST.

But then, you know… what if I miss it?