i hate it when we’re in the car and it’s hot and your air conditioning does that thing where it only blows lukewarm air at the floor and i’m sweating and you just said something passive aggressive that makes me want to punch you in the balls. like last saturday when we we’re fighting on university avenue and i hated the way you were driving and you hated the way i kept nervously talking and the circle of us pissing each other off was endless. and then i yelled. and you said ‘fuck’ a lot. and i cried because i cry at everything. and i rubbed snot on my camisole. and then there was silence between us and all i could hear was the street cleaner outside and a man hammering in the distance. and then you said ‘lets go home’ and i wanted to. but i asked for a ride to the bart station and your eyes did that thing that they do when you’re sad. so we went home. and you made me a cinnamon raison bagel with whipped cream cheese. even though i hate whipped cream cheese because it doesn’t spread. but it was good and you smelled good and i didn’t care about anything. i just wanted to keep eating bagels with you. until there were no bagels left and we had to go to safeway and buy all the bagels they had. and we’d laugh on the way home because we couldn’t fit that many bagels in your trunk. so i would sit with bagels on my lap. and you’d hold my hand and sing along to the cd in your car. this is how it feels to be mad at you.