I felt the uncertainty over breakfast today. It was a dodgy vibe I got off him; avoiding looking at me when talking to me, lips pursed and face blank. It isn’t as if we were destined to have a sophisticated relationship: I have grown to despise him, he has grown to despise me, I think. He doesn’t give me sleepless nights, but he pricks my comfort bubble whenever I’m around him. From what I’ve learned, he’s blabbed quite a lot.

I can’t say I’m surprised anymore. You’d expect umbrellas and typewriters to meet in some bizarre but somehow appropriate way: just not in this instance. I’d be tempted to toss the typewriter right in his face. Which was what I almost did today.

Something must’ve snapped in my head, because I forgot all restraint and just went for the jugular. My other friends looked at me with raised eyebrows or knowing smiles. I didn’t care and persisted with my own brand of insensitivity vs. his and he relented in the most unsporting of ways: by dismissing me.

I suppose I could’ve expected less, but an outburst from me — I don’t scream and shout very much in real life — cost me my own peace of mind.