but this is literally a private island. private. island. there's not any theives, rapists, or murderers, unknown to me. not to say there isn't any.

"stan." he calls out wearily. "hey man. what are you doing here?" i ask a little confused. stan and i are friends but we aren't super close, not close enough for him to be on my balcony somehow evading the locked doors. "i don't know." he sighs dramatically, but maybe not super dramatically considering his situation. "do you want to come inside?" i sit on the edge of my bed with a better view of the balcony. "can you come outside?" he mumbles sadly like an embarassed child. "yeah." i reply, joining him on the concrete floor. he was tucked into the corner near my potted plant and was playing with the petals with the hand that wasn't tucking his legs into himself. "you know." he stops fumbling with the petals and just looks at it. "yeah i do. there was a meeting." i sit across from him with my legs crossed apple-sauce style. "it wasn't a question. you know." he restates and looks up at me. "i'm sorry this is happening to you stan. what are you thinking right now?" it's hard to be friends to both the victim and the perpetrator is what i'm thinking.

"i don't know. we're over right?" he mumbles again. "do you want it to be? do you think you guys can move past this?" i question. "no.." he trails off and looks back at the plant. "to which one?" i ask confused. i don't blame him though, break ups seem rough especially if it ends because of someone cheating. not speaking from experience. pretty hard to be cheated on with no boyfriend. "both." he moans then buries his head in his knees. "oookay.. do you want a drink?" i stand up and step off into my bedroom preparing to get us water or maybe something stronger. "that'd be nice. you got budweiser right?" he lifts his head up. "yes."

about two minutes later i come back with the bottles and find an un-moved stan sitting right where i left him. "back." i hand him his drink and take my seat infront of him waiting for him to lead the conversation. "no one loves me. i'll never find better than wendy." he says dejectedly. woah. what a start. "when you're in a burning house you think the world is on fire, but it's not stan. people love you, and there's more out there." i take a sip after my monologue and stan sighs. "i just hope loving me isn't the hardest thing anyone has to do." he repeats my action, and also takes a sip. "cheers to that." we clink our glasses, and he smiles just a little.