It hurts right now. And I can’t think of a moment when it won’t hurt.
But maybe someday, in a distant future, there will be a moment when I think about you and it won’t hurt me as much.
It hurts right now. And I can’t think of a moment when it won’t hurt.
But maybe someday, in a distant future, there will be a moment when I think about you and it won’t hurt me as much.
Was I a weight?
On your shoulder?
On your soul?
Was I dispensable?
Was it nice when it ended?
Now you don’t have to put in any more effort.
Was I a burden?
You had to carry my insecurities and my secrets like a pack mule, now it doesn’t matter anymore.
Now that it’s done.
Was I easy?
Someone that could be easily fooled and played.
Was I nothing?
Just a useless pawn who, according to you, is devoid of any feelings.
Who apparently holds all the blame for everything.
Was I a back-up?
Just something that could be saved for later.
You have me in case it didn’t work out with someone else.
Was I naive?
Even through all my doubts, I believed all your lies.
I was falling faster than gravity would ever allow.
Was I the village idiot?
For believing that everything coming out of your mouth was the truth.
I played your games, unbeknownst to me that they were actually games.
Was I replaceable?
Once I’m gone nothing will change with you.
Because I was nothing to you in the first place.
Was I too broken?
Maybe you had to get out before you got too deep.
It was too much for you.
Was I wrong?
For believing in a dumb reality and breaking down my walls.
Am I a weight?
I am not a weight.
I am not dispensable.
I am not a burden.
I am not easy.
I am anything but nothing.
I am not back-up.
I am not naive.
I am not the village idiot.
I am not replaceable.
I am not too broken.
And I was not wrong. Nor will I ever be wrong.
I won’t let you do that to me anymore. I won’t let you lure me into thinking that this is all my fault. It’s not my fault.
I won’t let you control me anymore.
I am not a weight anymore.
You won’t be my weight anymore.
I met you again on a Monday.
It was a weird day for me.
It was confirmed that we had four classes together that semester on a Tuesday.
Purely coincidental, right?
I realized that I started harboring feelings for you on a Saturday.
Was it only because I wanted to get over someone?
You remembered me on a Friday.
It was weird for us to be talking again for the first time in 2 years.
You smiled at me for the first time on a Friday.
We had Spanish presentations that day.
You said “Hello” to me on a Friday.
And that’s the moment I knew I was in for a long ride.
I saw you with your girlfriend outside the door of our first period class on a Tuesday.
And my heart broke in a way I didn’t ever want to feel again (but still keep feeling).
I told my other best friend that I like you on a Sunday.
I guess that’s when it became real.
I had to sit next to you in class on a Thursday.
Because the seat next to my best friend was taken.
I gave you the binder that you left in class on a Thursday.
But I never told you it was me.
I liked having a conversation with you on a Thursday.
It was awkward for me at first but you were still the same nice person from freshman year.
You moved to the right in the front of the room for me so that I could be able to stand next to you and see (because I’m short) on a Friday.
And I still don’t know what made you do that.
I realized you started bringing me happiness on a Tuesday.
And I vented to my best friend about how you would never break up with your girlfriend and it was hopeless.
You told me not to give up on a project on a Thursday.
So I didn’t.
I realized I couldn’t do anything about my feelings on a Tuesday.
Your smile and the way you looked at me didn’t help.
I found out that you broke up with your girlfriend on a Wednesday.
It was hard to believe, I didn’t think it would actually happen.
My friend told me to get your number on a Saturday.
And I thought how would that ever happen.
You accidentally bumped into me on a Thursday.
And it was hilarious because you felt so bad and thought you had crushed me.
I figured out our friendship was platonic on a Thursday.
And it hurt me.
I realized I didn’t want to lose your friendship on a Friday.
So I held on, even with my feelings, because of who you were.
Our Spanish teacher assigned your seat right in front of me on a Friday.
And I knew life was laughing at me somewhere.
You smiled at me for the hundredth (I didn’t actually count) time on a Thursday.
That’s when I realized that could be the one thing that could kill me.
Your ex-girlfriend got yelled at by her friends for not wearing her jacket on a Thursday.
She didn’t have it because you had it and my heart broke for the ______ time.
I listened to sad music and created a playlist on Spotify on a Thursday.
Because it hurt so damn much.
I had to avoid you and be abrupt with your questions in Photography class on a Friday.
But I had to ask you for help in that class and you cared.
We had a full conversation in class on a Friday.
It helped but I was very confused.
I got your snapchat on a Friday.
But only because my best friend wanted the pictures of the Spanish packet that you discreetly took on your phone.
I messaged you first on a Saturday.
That’s when our first text conversation began.
You made fun of how I almost fell off the hill on a Friday.
And I wanted to make you fall.
You stopped our conversation and left my side to go talk to her on a Friday.
Of course, why would you keep talking to me?
You asked me if I had depression on a Wednesday.
I told you the truth about my anxiety and knew that this wouldn’t be an easy crush.
I opened up about my anxiety to you on a Saturday.
And it was weird for me.
You told me you were interested in who I was on a Sunday.
And if my anxiety was convincing me that I was bothering you- you wouldn’t be doing your job as a good friend.
I found out we had no classes together in second semester on a Monday.
I felt my heart drop and questioned life’s intentions.
I told you that I was upset about it on a Monday.
I can’t believe I was that comfortable with you to tell you that.
You told me you would never forget me and that we would still message each other on a Tuesday.
It made me feel better.
You got yelled at by her to hurry up on a Wednesday.
And one of my classmates/friends asked me if you were back together with her.
You sat next to me in class on a Thursday.
Because that would be our last class that we had together, but the 45 minutes went by too fast.
My best friend told you that I could sing on a Friday.
And you said you were gonna hear me sing one day or another.
The new semester began on a Monday.
It broke my heart not to see you every day in my classes.
I missed you especially in Spanish class on a Monday.
Because you made that class bearable.
I saw you on the staircase with your new haircut on a Tuesday.
And I yelled at you for not responding to my message.
I saw you walking with her on a Tuesday.
And I knew, for a fact, that you would never miss me as much as I miss you.
I asked you how you would feel if our friendship ended on a Thursday.
And you told me you would be sad, real sad.
I thought my anxiety messed up our friendship on a Monday.
Because I was overthinking the fact that you didn’t talk to me for a week because your messaging wasn’t working.
I realized that I was scared on a Monday.
I was scared to lose you.
I told one of my friends who’s also your friend that I liked you on a Monday.
And she told me that you never got back together with her, you were just best friends with her.
I thought you weren’t trying anymore in our friendship on a Friday.
Did you even want to hang out and see me?
I turned around to talk to my friend just so you wouldn’t talk to me on a Friday.
Because I needed to protect my heart.
You told me you had your college life planned out already on a Sunday.
And I was jealous because I didn’t even know where I would want to go to college.
You hugged me on a Monday.
And my heart wouldn’t stop palpitating for 10 minutes.
You told me my sarcasm makes you laugh on a Thursday.
I really was growing comfortable with you.
You told me that we should go to Ethiopia and India on a Monday.
But it was just for the conversation, right?
You told me we should text shorter to each other on a Friday.
So that we would be able to have time to talk more.
You told me you wanted to watch the school play with me on a Thursday.
But we both had conflicting schedules and I told you that there would be other opportunities for us to hang out.
I gave you a nickname on a Saturday.
And you were already finding ideas for mine.
I told you that fake people don’t know the real me and think I’m quiet on a Saturday.
You told me that must mean I’m comfortable with you and we’re comfortable with each other.
You gave me a nickname on Sunday.
And we figured out that we had a lot in common, like finding puns hilarious.
You told me that instead of planning to go to the play we should’ve gone to see a beautiful sunset on a Monday.
I told you I want to escape from the city and see the stars and you agreed that that should be our goal for the semester/summer.
You gave me candy on a Monday.
I have horrible eye-to-hand coordination so you had to throw it into the hoodie of my jacket.
I saw you on the staircase and you stopped me from going to lunch to have a short conversation on a Monday.
You asked me if I wanted to hang out with you over spring break, making you late to class.
You told me that whenever we see each other briefly at school and have our little talks away from texting it makes your day on a Monday.
You really aren’t helping me.
You told me you felt bad because you went to Chipotle and couldn’t buy me anything because you didn’t have enough cash on a Monday.
Did you really think of me or were you just saying that?
I told you I had a crappy day and you told me that you hope my smile is saved for Tuesday.
In a platonic way, right?
You told me you drove illegally to Chipotle on a Wednesday.
You’re such a bad influence and I thought I had to make sure to give you a bit of my good influence.
You told me you were sad that you didn’t see me on the last day of school before spring break on a Friday.
You claimed that you would pick me up and I told you I was not looking forward to being thrown like a football.
I replied to you shortly while I was in my dark hole on a Monday.
I had a little hope that you would ask me what’s wrong but thought it was just another one of my mind’s impossible realities.
You asked me what’s wrong on a Monday.
I dropped my phone; you weren’t actually supposed to make my mind’s fantasies to come true.
You told me you had to make sure that I knew that you cared on a Wednesday.
And that you would be there when I was ready to open up to you. Liar.
I messaged you my childhood pictures because you wanted to see them on a Thursday.
You thought I was so cute and I asked for your childhood pictures too.
I went into my dark hole again and I opened up to you on a Friday.
My mistake for actually thinking that you would be there and you actually cared.
You read my message without a reply on a Saturday.
And I ruined myself waiting for you to reply because I was vulnerable.
You sent me a message the night before school on a Monday.
I didn’t open it because I was a pissed you left me hanging for two days.
I opened your message on a Wednesday.
And it had nothing to do with me opening up to you.
I told people I could trust how you responded to me opening up to you on a Thursday.
And they told me I deserve better and to move on.
I blamed myself for the whole thing on a Friday.
Because if I didn’t open up to you we would still be talking like we normally do.
I asked my friend if I should be upfront with you about the whole thing on a Saturday.
She told me not to bring it up and to just start a new conversation, so I did.
I started a new conversation on a Saturday.
And I wonder if I didn’t start a new conversation, would you have even cared? Did it even phase you that we hadn’t talked for 3 days?
My friend told me that if you hurt me again she would fight you on a Saturday.
I trusted that you wouldn’t because I knew who you were. I was wrong. I don’t know who you are anymore.
We had a conversation on a Sunday.
But it felt weird, you weren’t responding like you used to.
I opened a message of yours on a Monday.
And you put no effort into replying to what I had to say. Your paragraphs turned into uninterested short sentences.
I cried because of you on a Monday.
Because did I ruin us? Or was I fool for thinking that you actually cared about me?
You opened my message on a Monday.
And you didn’t reply, nothing new.
You replied to me on a Wednesday.
It took you two days to give me your two-second, half-assed reply.
My friends saw you with her on a Wednesday.
I thought why am I even trying anymore when you don’t care.
I saw you on a Thursday.
But how could you expect me to look directly into your eyes? I couldn’t. I had to leave fast.
I overthink about you every day.
Nothing has or will ever change that.
It’s funny how so much can happen in a mere day.
How a friendship can be made.
How feelings can be developed.
But also, how everything can come crashing down.
I’m writing this about the two of us on a Saturday.
Is it the end of us? Was there ever an us?
Rockabye by Clean Bandit ft. Sean Paul & Anne-Marie
Runnin’ Home to You by Grant Gustin
No Promises by Cheat Codes ft. Demi Lovato
If This is Love by Ruth B
Have you ever heard that song from OneRepublic, “Counting Stars?” Well, it popped up in my Spotify today and it had this one line: “Everything that kills me makes me feel alive.”
Well, how does that make sense?
How do things that kill you make you feel alive?
And then I thought about yesterday.
So, yesterday… My heart broke for reasons that I’m not too comfortable with sharing yet. But I will say that my heart broke over a person.
I got home from school and I burst a few tears, but only a few. Then I resorted to listening to sad music and doing my homework to not focus on the pain too much and get my mind off of it.
Then I heard this sad song, “Say Something” by A Great Big World. I know, I know, it’s kind of old and overplayed, but it’s such a meaningful song. And as of that moment, it connected so much with me. So much, that I cried.
Not only a few tears… but I actually cried. I bawled listening to the whole song with a runny nose and everything because the song fully explained what I was thinking and everything I was feeling. Have you ever listened to a song where every lyric seems to be as if it came from your heart? That was this song.
Usually, when I cry I like to dig myself into my hole of darkness and start thinking of ways as to why my life is crap and why this specific person (the one I was crying over) wouldn’t “say something.”
But I didn’t curse out my life or see a reason as to give up.
You want to know what I did when I cried?
I thanked God. Yeah, you read that right.
I was thankful that I was crying and that I was feeling emotion. No, I wasn’t shedding happy tears. I could literally feel my heart breaking piece by piece because everything with this specific person was a mess.
But I was thankful. I was thankful that I was feeling something. I was thankful that I was feeling sadness, a genuine human emotion. I was thankful for my tears and my snot-filled nose (sorry for the visual lol) because I was kind of glad that I was shedding tears.
Is that weird? I don’t really think it is.
Over these past few days, I’ve just shut the pain in and resorted to listening to my mind’s dark thoughts. But on this day, I cried. I didn’t want to act like everything was ok. I didn’t want to shut myself out (which is something I didn’t even realize I was doing). I wanted to let out what I was feeling. I wanted to cry to let out the sadness. I was/am heartbroken.
Everything (or everyone) that kills me makes me feel alive. No, I don’t wish to have that feeling again. But feelings like that, like this because that feeling is still prevalent, only make me grow and remind myself that I’m not always strong, but it’s ok because I’m only human.
I was once scrolling through Pinterest and I saw this quote that I loved so much that I think describes why I was thankful for my tears:
“No matter how broken my heart may feel, I will always be grateful that it still has a beat.”
Please don’t think I’m this person who is so strong and has everything figured out. I might say all of this and very much 100% mean it, but I still have baggage and have moments of weakness. I still break and I still feel like crap here and there. But I’m trying. I’m trying to find the light in my cracks.
It felt like crap (and it still feels like crap) to cry those tears and to feel the pain that the specific person caused me/causes me, but the tears made me feel alive… I don’t know how because here and there I still feel like a used rag, but it made me want to, I don’t know, keep going. Which doesn’t really make sense. But I just don’t want to let the pain of one person break me. I don’t want to give them the power or advantage of breaking me completely.
Emotions aren’t weak. They only remind you that you’re human. And you have to remember to feel your emotions, and remember not to shut yourself out.
People cannot read minds.
It would be cool if they did, and maybe a bit creepy if they read your mind. But it can’t happen.
So don’t be mad at someone if they can’t see that your “I’m doing ok” is actually a bold-faced lie.
Telling people that you’re okay when you’re not is the decision you make.
People can’t read minds. They don’t know what’s going on until you tell them.
Don’t expect someone to read you like airport security.
If you’re drowning,
When someone is drowning you don’t hear them silently going under the waves. They scream their lungs out trying to get help, trying to get someone’s attention.
To get a life preserver thrown at them.
You can’t expect someone to throw a life preserver out at you when you’re not even screaming for help.
It’s not lame asking for help.
Is it weak caring about yourself and your well-being? Hell no.
Personally, I don’t like asking people for help. Because I feel like I’m bothering them.
But I 100% believe that your friends, loved ones, etc. want you to go to them about your problems instead of watching you silently suffering.
And if you don’t completely trust someone with your problems, don’t tell them.
But if the reason you’re not telling them is because you’re scared- don’t be.
If they love you, they won’t judge you or feel bothered.
Violently scream like a little kid in the movies when they see a ghost.
Scream for that life preserver.
Because no one was born with the ability to read minds.
Over the past few days, I’ve reached out to people and I never realized I’ve always had some amazing life preservers.
Do you know how hard it is?
To restrict yourself from talking to the one person who has always been there to make you smile and uncontrollably laugh but has also been the one who’s done you wrong?
I just want some answers.
I just need to know why.
I want to know what I did wrong.
I just want to talk to him again and see his face.
I just want to erase the drama.
There’s nothing more I want to do than let him know that I’m still there and I still care.
But what about him?
Where is he?
How does he feel?
Does he even care?
Am I just another conversation to him?
Is this easy for him?
Will he wonder what happened?
Does he even know something’s wrong?
What if he turned around when he exited that door and saw me,
What would he have done?
What would I have done?
Have you ever wished you could take back something? That you could go back to the past and undo actions that turned out to be hell? Well if you have, hop in because we’re in the same boat and that’s exactly what I’m going to talk about.
This is my disclaimer to you because this is a long and complicated rant, so buckle in if you’re ready to hear how opening up to a guy turned out.
You guys know Phoenix right? No? You’re new? Well in summary: he’s the guy I like and my friend who I text daily.
If you’re not new, you might’ve responded with: “He’s the guy who cares about you so much, I like him- he’s a keeper!” Well… now I’m not sure about that.
So if you read the last post I did which involved Phoenix (Boy Rant: What’s Wrong) everything was going fine. It was actually good. I guess this was life’s cue to turn everything into crap.
I thought he cared. I thought he was different. I thought I could open up to him.
Urgh, I’m getting carried away with the end of the story.
So, the days before Friday we kind of just had a conversation about him asking me what’s wrong and me being vague about it not wanting to talk about it/not wanting to open up to him. And I thought that everything was going to be okay. We were back to our regular conversation of long paragraphs and jokes. But of course, I just had to ruin it.
On Friday, I felt horrible and depressed, for reasons that I already shared. I wanted to talk to someone. I thought of talking to the texting hotline I contacted that previous Monday, but I thought that it would be too sudden considering that I talked to them just 4 days ago (I should have). I didn’t have any friends to go to (Or I thought I didn’t).
Then I remembered that Phoenix was there. He told me that if I’m ready to open up he’ll be there.
So I did.
I didn’t care about my anxiety. I didn’t care about anything really because I was too sad to care about anything.
So I texted him (on snapchat) about all my thoughts and feelings (not how I feel about him). I said something along the lines of: Explanations of why I don’t want to bother you, this is why I don’t want to open up to you, why I’m sad, why life sucks for me… other stuff I can’t remember. I ended up sending 3 full page messages to him. I poured my mind and my heart (not the part that likes him) to him.
On a Friday Night.
I didn’t feel all “that” anxious sending him that message not only because I was too sad to care, but also because he told me that he would be there when I was ready to open up to him. So what was there to feel completely
(because of course, I still have anxiety) anxious about?
Turns out, I should’ve been overwhelmingly anxious about it and thought twice about sending that message.
Saturday morning, I felt even worse. Not because of him, but because of my sadness. I went to church and I felt like crap. I kept annoyingly looking at my phone to see if Phoenix texted me, to see if he could help me from digging myself into a deeper hole.
He didn’t text me but I see that he did post something on his story. I didn’t completely look at it, but it was a picture of one of his friends. And I knew in that moment- that I messed everything up. The one major reason that I didn’t want to be open with him (that I actually TOLD him in the message) is because he. has. a. fucking. life.
He has friends, family, a passion. He has a life. And what did the broken girl do? She had to burden him with her problems.
So I did the only thing I could do to pause my life. I turned off my phone. Not only because of him but because of everything. I just wanted the anxiety of him, everything concerning him to be turned off for a while. I wanted to isolate myself from my friends for a while. I wanted to stop worrying and overthinking because it really wasn’t helping that I was already feeling crappy about life. I just wanted that dumb phone to be turned off.
That Saturday afternoon turned out to be one of the worst in my life, I don’t want to revisit it.
Saturday afternoon becomes night and I figure I should turn my phone back on because curiosity is a disease.
I see that some of my friends sent me snapchats, but of course, the only conversation I worry about is the one where I carelessly talked about my thoughts to someone I met only a few months ago. I checked it and what do I see?
Opened at 11:25 A.M.
(Not sure about the 25, just emphasizing a point) He opened my message that Saturday morning. The time I felt the worst about myself. The time I needed someone to care a little bit.
And the one person I reached out to didn’t even care. Is opening a vulnerable text message and just ignoring it considered as caring?
I waited. Because sometimes he opens my messages, saves them, and responds later. But I was too scared to check if he saved them.
I thought that he would reply on Sunday. Nothing.
I was a mess considering the whole thing. I couldn’t believe I actually did what I did. I thought maybe if I slept enough it could be a dream. Maybe if I didn’t check my phone too much he’ll respond.
I thought that he would reply on Monday. Nothing.
I felt even worse but I was going to go over to my best friend’s house to hang out so my day wasn’t complete crap because of my thoughts. It actually helped me from overthinking too much. When I got to her house my phone was dying and I kind of wanted it to die because then I wouldn’t obsess over that dumb notification, hoping that everytime I see it, it’s him.
When I got home that night, I went to bed right away only picking up my phone to charge it the night before the first day of school after spring break.
Tuesday morning. 6 o’clock. Back to the same tired and groggy school routine. I check my notifications and I don’t see his name until I open the app and see that he did, in fact, text me.
He texted me the night before school started. That previous Monday night. I texted him that dumb message of my thoughts on a Friday night. He only texted me because school would be the next day and he knew that he would see me.
We don’t have any classes together but I always pick my friend up after first period, and Phoenix has the same first period as her so I always see him. But, of course, I already thought of a way to not see him.
Because how could I?
I was literally drowning that weekend and I reached out to him, and all I got was radio silence, or water in my lungs if this is a metaphor. I knew that once I saw him in person I would immediately forgive him, but I can’t do that to myself. I can’t just forgive him because he’s him.
So I texted the friend that I pick up and
told her lied to her that I had to stay a while in my first period class and that she should just go to class because I don’t want to make her late. She told me that she was really sad that she didn’t see me. I was sad too, I wish I didn’t have to do that. I felt so so bad.
Of course, I never opened Phoenix’s message because:
A. He deserves it, I am a girl and I’m allowed to be a bit petty lol and B. I was scared.
Whenever I thought of his awaiting message I thought of all I’ve said to him. And my anxiety came crashing in each time I did that. I sent him an essay basically and all he did was toss it aside like a piece of trash or disregard it like a homework assignment.
So I talked to some of my friends about it.
One of my freshmen friends who doesn’t know him told me that I can never open up to a guy. And I try explaining to her that he’s different, but in that moment I couldn’t think of anything to differentiate him from every other jerk-y guy.
I talked to the friend that I was supposed to pick up after first period about it and I asked her if maybe she could pick me up instead of the other way around. And she agreed, she didn’t even question it at first. After explaining to her which hallway my class was in, she then asked why. I told her it was because of him, who she knows because they have the same first period (I hope you’re able to understand these details ahh).
She’s not really his friend. I was kind of hesitant about telling this friend because I thought that she would tell him because when all three of us had the same class together last semester she loved to tease me about our friendship and how it’s something more. Even though I never told this friend I like him lol she just made fun of the fact that Phoenix was my friend. So I asked her not to tell him what I said and she said she wouldn’t and she doesn’t even talk to him.
It’s Tuesday night and I still have an awaiting message from him that I never opened. Even though he took 3 days to reply to me, doesn’t mean it’s easy for me to do the same to him. I felt bad for not responding in 12 hours. But I really didn’t want to open that message without someone. It was also easy to disregard the message this day because I was watching some movies at my friend’s house.
The message is still there. I know, I know. I should just open it. But I can’t. What if I’m not prepared for what he would say?
It’s fifth period and my only in-school friend who knows that I like him is in this class. I thought about telling her about it, and also thought about the repercussions. But I mean how bad could it be talking to her about it?
So I tell her about the whole “What’s wrong” thing and she says “Aww” at first, but then I keep going with the story. And at the end oof the story, which is him opening the message and not responding until days later, she doesn’t know what to say. She tried telling me that I did nothing wrong.
But. why. do. I. feel. like. I. did?
Like it was my fault for opening up to him, even though he said I’ll be here when you’re ready to open up.
Then she asks me what his message said and I tell her I haven’t opened it.
Now you should know this about my friend, she’s very chill about things and she doesn’t like overthinking something too long. For example, yesterday she went on a field trip and the bus broke down and all her classmates were complaining about being late and other stuff and she was just like “Oh well, it’s not like the world’s ending.” She doesn’t like keeping her mind set on one problem, which is something I absolutely admire about her. But, of course, I’m an overthinker. She doesn’t even overthink about guys, especially about the guy she likes, she knows that she doesn’t have a chance with a guy but she’s perfectly o.k.a.y. with it.
Now that you know this, it makes sense that my friend wants me to simply open the message and see what it says. I tell her I can’t, I’m not chill like her. So she tells me she’ll read it for me. Minutes pass by as we try to listen to our teacher and she has some stories to personally share, her life is always interesting lol.
Then I open the message because being near her just made me create this mindset, “Let me just get it over with,” lol. So I slowly open up the message, and what do I see?
What was I constantly worrying about? What was I scared and anxious to open?
A dumb screenshot. He sent me a fucking screenshot.
I don’t know how many of you have snapchat, after this I’m thinking of deleting it, but you can watch these videos/articles (they call it stories) from like magazine brands like People or radio networks like iHeartRadio. It’s basically an electronic version of a magazine. And he sent me one of those stories and on it said: “You’re putting on chapstick wrong.”
You’re. putting. on. chapstick. wrong.
I was racking my brain worrying over how vulnerable I was and how he would respond and he sends me a fucking magazine article about putting my chapstick on wrong.
I hate cursing, I only do it when I’m mad. But why wouldn’t I be mad?
Wouldn’t you be mad?
If you opened up to someone you’re scared to open up to, you’re scared of what they say… but they just throw it aside like a used tissue, as if nothing ever happened.
I mean really, what happened?
I know I don’t know his side of the story. But I can’t just convince myself or lie to my heart that me opening up to him never happened- like he is supposedly doing. I mean it happened. As much as I want to sleep it untrue, it happened. But he’s acting as if I didn’t just send him a whole essay on my dark thoughts.
Did it really mean nothing to him that I was opening up a broken piece of myself? Did he just read the message and think “Nah, I don’t want to get caught up in this bullshit.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what he thought. But either way, it hurts. I don’t care what I’ve said in the past about him caring because as of right now, he doesn’t. As of right now, I want to hurt about this and be pissed at him even though he doesn’t know I’m pissed at him.
I want to be pissed at the one guy who seems indefinitely perfect in a world full of jerks. Makes it easier for me, huh?
Back to the story, my chill friend was going to respond to him with “No response to my rant?” but I didn’t want her to send that to him. So instead she wrote, “Mmmkay that’s nice.” Even though I wanted to say worse things or nothing at all.
And I don’t know why, but I thought I would get a response to that mmkay message. I didn’t. He just opened my message (this afternoon). I don’t really care about him just opening the mmkay message, it was nothing.
But when I saw that “opened” it felt different. I always had a feeling whenever he left my messages on open that he would later reply. But I have a feeling that he’s not going to reply to this one. Or reply at all…
I’m not just mad, I’m heartbroken. I was thinking of being blunt with him about it and just talking to him, but of course, he updated his snapchat story. For those who might not know a snapchat story is for all your friends to see, not just one person. I thought I should watch what he says before making another risky decision. Basically, the story was him talking about some soccer player.
Nothing, right? No.
This is his passion. His life. The last thing he needs is a girl asking him why he did the heartbreaking thing that he did. He doesn’t need burdens. He doesn’t need drama.
He doesn’t need me.
Look at what I did. I fell. Did I only open up to him because I like him? Because I thought maybe what he had to say would fix me? I don’t know. Maybe. I thought that maybe he actually cared like he always told me he did. Maybe I was falling too hard and I needed to catch myself before it got too severe. Too late.
Maybe I just wanted someone to be there for me and I thought him saying that he’ll be there for me to open up is the reason he was put in my life because of course, I have to believe in the dumb “things happen for a reason” philosophy. Maybe he’s a special friend, that’s why he’s still my friend and hasn’t left (don’t speak too soon). I just wanted to talk to someone, I just needed to get things off my chest.
So I ran to the person who told me he cared, but he doesn’t.
He just acted as if nothing happened.
Maybe you’ll tell me I should talk to him about it. But how can I? Imagine if you did the same thing:
Being vulnerable once was something, but twice?
I wish I could be my chill friend and be like “It’s not that deep,” but it is for me, and I don’t know how to change that.
Phoenix intentionally hurt me. He’s unintentionally hurt me when he was always with his ex-girlfriend. But this time, he did it on purpose.
And it hurts. So. Much.
I told him in my dumb, vulnerable message that I would understand if he left once he read that message- but I don’t understand.
I know now. Opening up to him was a bad decision. A bad decision I can never take back.
And the worst part is, that if he reaches out to me, I’ll just forgive him as if him hurting me was nothing. But I can’t keep repeatedly hurting myself. I can’t keep giving myself scars because I want to keep this guy in my life.
It’s hard enough trying to avoid seeing him in the hallways considering that my heart really wants to see him. But I can’t. I don’t want to do that to myself. I’m here heartbroken, while he’s there unfazed. I care so much about him, I even feel bad for wanting to share my feelings with him. But he…
This is what happened when I opened up to a guy.
When he told me he cared… Why did I believe him?