I got off my flight in Atlanta and texted my semi ex to come pick me up. We had been together for six years before I semi ended things and moved up north. He refused to take life as seriously as I did and it wasn’t his fault. I used the semi because I rarely truly close a chapter. I usually leave a hope, a possibility, a kindle before I am never seen again.

Well this time I was seen again. He pulled up in a black Toyota Avalon. The inside was nicer than my car. I was not jealous but the feeling you get when you think someone is undeserving.

I ignored my lesser emotions and decided to catch up. We spoke of random updates regarding work and school.

We soon arrived at our former shared abode, an apartment with both our names on the lease. I was only going to spend a night there and so I did. We began our evening drinking but it wasn’t long before his bastard cat split my lip. I was due for New York in less than twenty-four hours and blood wouldn’t stop gushing from my face. So to say I was feeling upset was an understatement. Soon as I learned to stop moving my lips the bleeding stopped and the wound didn’t seem so bad.

We had sex. The next day he brought up me cutting myself in the past as a random comment during a conversation as a joke. He cried in bed for an hour when I asked why he would say that. I went on my way to catch up with some other friends at a local bar before I left the next morning.

They hadn’t seen each other or hung out really as a group since I left. Did I feel good hearing I was needed for something, that I had use? I drank and went to bed next to my semi ex. We held each other. He drove me to the airport in the morning where I was to meet my friend and her boyfriend and his brother for our trip to New York.

She was an old friend from high school. She hated my ex and loved me. I was told the rules of this trio is I cannot initiate anything. I was okay with her being in charge.

She took a kiss around a corner here and there. We held each other when no one was around. She yelled at him at the subway and I never wanted to be hated so bad.

She coaxed her boyfriend to accept me. He pitied me. I hated myself till I understood he’s no different than me. She didn’t feel well the next morning after his disobedience and me and him spent half a day walking a museum together. We looked at different sections but the one I know we remembered most was those of indigenous people. The African section was richer than I thought it would be and I was fulfilled. My ex was white. I was not. My friend was Native American and Colombian. Her boyfriend was of South American indigenous descent as well.

I saw them huddled at the section for South American indigenous people and heard them speak in Spanish while holding hands. I saw the glint in their eyes of attention that mine had and wanted to share something, anything with them.

That would not happen. She loved me. He did not.

I cried when I got home after my solo flight back to Detroit. I texted her how proud I am of her and sent my semi ex a meme about femboys. I wasn’t sad.