The sound of a custom notification awoke her, and she reached for her mobile device blind. The sound was familiar, but it was early. She had barely opened her eyes, let alone switched on her brain.
Numbness overwhelmed her as she read the word.
She was instantly drained as her eyes skimmed the innocently sinister word in a white speech bubble on the cracked screen of her new phone. Blank. And just like that, her eyes became holders; two little cups filled with clear resin sticking to her eyeballs, unable to fall. Heavy. Her heart palpitated in her mouth. Dry.
She placed the phone down on her covers and closed her eyes. What was going to be a comfortable morning in from a day off from work had suddenly become an anxiety-fuelled convulsion. “I’m going to be sick.” She ran to the bathroom, nothing but bile sticking to the insides of her throat. She had thought about this moment every day for the past 6 months. It was time to finally have her say and be done with all of this, but could she? He was an unplanned invasion at this point.
She walked to the kitchen and filled an empty mug with water. The mug was her mother’s. It was as old as she was and the typography screamed at her: “Happy Days!” It was the kitsch curly type of font on an old average looking mug that no “cool girl” would ever post a picture of without a hipster caption to make it seem acceptable. She sipped on the glass of water and let it cool her mouth. It felt like the fire inside her was put out. She walked back to her bedroom and picked up the phone.
“I have a question: when did it become okay to abandon someone without reason?
Am I a hypocrite for asking this question? Probably. I know I’ve ghosted before.
It’s just that when I look at you all I have are questions and no answers. It doesn’t matter how many things I move through, I’m overdrawn. I could be doing great. I could be doing my job at my desk every day; I could be in love; I could be living a beautiful, personal moment of realisation; I could be making love to someone… and still, your name is branded onto my tongue. I wish I understood why it rolls around my mind, clinging to my clean surfaces like the tacky countertops of the local bar in our old neighbourhood.
I lie awake almost every night scrolling through my Instagram feed and wondering where on earth you went. Where the fuck are you? You basically disappeared and left me with a gaping hole where my person used to be. And now I get a text like you haven’t just ghosted me for 6 months? Can I say that without you judging me? Is that so hard? Yeah, of course, it is. It became hard, didn’t it? Because you couldn’t get a handle on your life, and mine, so what did you do? You abandoned me. Who does that?
You know what, FUCK YOU. You broke me. I was never the same. Do you know that I couldn’t sleep or eat or talk to anyone for a full 2 weeks? I’d stare at your time stamp like a Google maps direction to your existence. And then that disappeared too when you blocked me. You took every last piece of my sanity and you threw it away like I was disposable.
The worst part is that you know that I love you.
I am so mad at you, but honestly, what’s the point in me resenting your power? Those deep worn eyes hold all your entitlement with the glory you so covet; taking people’s pain and hanging it in your basement for later ego stroking.
Just be honest, you’re just too pussy to say, ‘I don’t love you anymore. And I thought I loved you at the time, but it was nothing but lust. I made a mistake.’
I was just a vase to hold your wilting flowers. I know it. The ones you salvaged on a whim and trivially felt like you could give them to the first thing that gave you attention because you’re still so torn up about that girl who broke your spirit all those years ago? You didn’t know that the girl on the other side was going to love those flowers, did you? Will you ever get over her, really? It’s actually pathetic. You keep passing up on good things because you can’t face your fears.
If you woke up for one second and realised that the person you’ve idealised in your mind is a fantasy and your heart is so much larger, braver, and amazing than the cards you keep playing, you’d be able to see what you’re worth. Stop breaking people and running away.
Do you know what’s sad? The fact that I’ve accepted that there will be a tiny little piece of myself that will always belong to you, and I’ve given it away. I’ve etched your name on that shard, buried it deep into my soul, and left it there. And I won’t touch it. Trust me. I don’t want to bleed again. I’m fine with never having 100% of myself again. The rest of me can be someone else’s. The rest of me can love.”
She stared at the screen, having written the words she so desperately felt.
And then she erased every letter and wrote, “Hi Sam”.