I thought this was bad enough, but apparently there’s much more to this.
you stop breathing for a little bit while you wait outside the door. then they call you back in. you go back inside with a tiny amount of hope that maybe it’s not what it looks like. but of course, you are wrong. you are not even disappointed or scared because you knew. it’s everything that’s going to come from that point on, that makes it scary. it’s day one and it’s monday. you know things are going to change from now. they are going to have to change from now on. you want to call your friends but then you realize that there is no point in talking about it. it will be over soon, that’s the only thing that you can hang onto right now because everything else doesn’t even make sense to begin with. you go home, and you sleep. maybe when you wake up it will have been just a bad dream.
you miss dinner and then you skip it altogether when you go back downtown for the meet. it goes wrong. but this time you are surprised. and hurt. disappointed. but mostly just hurt. your own words fail you. you cannot believe what is happening right in front of you. instead of leaving, you stay until it’s over. you go home and you sleep some more. the next two days feel like two months. again. the door. then they call you in. more time spent in waiting rooms. you’d made your decision already. there’s nothing to think about anymore. just how to stay sane and how to get out of this without any consequences. it takes you about five days to accept that you’re actually alone in this. that he left you completely. but eventually you get there. you cannot even remember the other person anymore. the bad out weights the good. you are sorry but not sorry enough because the only person you really need to think about right now is yourself.
a week later you write letters in the night because you can’t sleep. you write letters to the one who betrayed you, to the one you will never meet, to the one you’ve neglected all this time, to the one you hadn’t forgotten, not even after all this time. you write letters and you keep writing them and you keep deleting them because half the time they are just bunch of emotional crap. because that’s all you are: you are an emotional mess and you are simply waiting for everything to be over so you can go back to your life. or what you think your life is.
you are just waiting for everything to be over.