FEATURED STORY: I am by Micah Espion

"Promise me something," she said taking my hand. At this point, I had lost count of the promises she talked me into making.  The majestic promise-keeping quality of my pinky would have worn off by now. That didn't matter. Giving her something to hold on to is what mattered; even if it wasn't me.

"Shoot."

"That you'll stick around long enough to watch me fall apart."

 I gave her a perfunctory nod and she flashed a smile that wasn't hers. I felt her fingers slip away from mine. In a list of all the horrible things in this world, the feeling of her skin no longer pressed against mine placed as the climactic superlative.  On the contrary, amid all uncertainty, the only thing I was sure of was that I didn't love her as much as she loved me. It's unfair. But this is the realistic side of her pipe dream - me.

We weren't lovers as much as we were best friends. She knew that and it hurt. Her eyes still hold traces of pain the bitter truth has imprinted onto them. Often after a while apart, she would run towards me, wrap her arms around my temples and in defense, say, I missed you. I would respond with a nod. And that was never enough. I was never enough.

It wasn't her fault, my inability to reciprocate what she would have given up for me. It was never hers to carry to nights where she would cry herself to sleep. It was mine to be sure of and mine to regret, all at the same time.

She was already falling apart. Inside and out, I could see that. I never saw her face in this light. I never thought hurt  could be this transparent. I see her eyes, begging for reason and strength, and knowing both of which I cannot provide. I take her hand and this time she doesn't hold tight. Her fingers know I am leaving soon. I can feel the small of her back ready to face cold nights as she denies my arm the right to lace around it.

Then she figures this can't go on. She figures she has to take care of herself. She figures I'm not good for her. She figures I am leaving soon. She figures I don't love her as much as she loves me.  She figures I won't miss her. She figures I'll nod. She figures it's not her fault. She figures she's falling apart.

She figures I'll say good bye instead of good night.

Finally, she gets it right. 

 Because I am the best friend. I am the promise at 2 am. I am the other line of a phone call. I am the friendly advice. I am the lab partner.  I am the obligatory compliment. I am the inside joke. I am the favorite song. I am the first dance at prom. I am the blind optimism. I am the first choice. I am, I am. But I am not hers and she is no longer mine.