"I'm just not physically attracted to you anymore..." the way he said it rings in my ears long after he's gone and crushes me in ways I didn't know was even possible.
Right now I don't want to hear anything anymore. I don't want to hear the way the rain hits the roof like tiny rocks, or hear the way the thunder claps hard enough to rattle the windows. I don't want to hear the fan struggle to cool the room off in this too-damn-small apartment or hear the dog whine at my feet because she's scared.
Right now I don't want to reimagine the way the door slammed as he left, the picture of us beside it almost falling to the floor. I don't want to keep thinking of how easy it was for him to tell me that I'm not good enough anymore, or to keep hearing over and over that he's "felt this way for a while"... How long was a while?
I don't want to feel anymore how every part of my soul just got destroyed. How my confidence, my self esteem, my self worth, all were gone with the right choice of words from just the right person. And he really had been just the right person.
He supported me through university, always telling me that working on my future was important, and that I should spend more time studying if I felt like I needed to. He understood when I picked up shifts at work on the weekends and cancelled our plans last minute because he knew I didn't want to ask him for help anymore to feed the dog or to get gas in my car. He never judged my wild family, even though he came with me to meet my birth parents, and when I cried in his arms he told me I didn't ever have to be like them if I didn't want to. He loved me.
And yet I could feel myself slowly sinking down the paneled wall, replaying all of the reasons we were too busy to see each other these last couple of weeks. I could feel my knees meeting my chest as I remembered his recent trips up north with the guys, or to his parents' house, the entire week he was gone to help his friend move. My head was spinning as I finally reached the carpet, things slowly starting to click into place, and I put my head down trying to make sense of the crushing realization that the last words he said to me must've been true.
