broken contracts

It's 2 a.m., and you're here. You've broken every rule you've made for me, he said.

Actually, I think that was your rule.

But I do make these rules, that I never seem to stick to. I don't really know what the point is, maybe it's just part of this game. This game we're always playing.

Just friends, huh.

I guess so.

Somehow, this is always how events transpire. No wonder I have no idea how to date. You're twenty-five kid, make the guy take you on a proper date, that's how it's supposed to be, that's how you know it'll turn into something worth anything, that's what convention says, and then I think, fuck it, I'm twenty-five, things are how they are, and I really can't sit around and have convention work itself out. I kind of just have to do what I want, even if it fucks me over (or vice versa). Why bother? Because I think, one of these days, one of these days, it'll work out.

I could be wrong, there's always room to be wrong.