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karl couldn't stop thinking about her, he's seen a handful of tweets, he just wanted to make sure she was ok. a thousand unanswered texts he paces his room trying his very best to record the perfect voice mail.
beep, "uhh hey, so the sweater" he sings then shakes his head "so so so stupid."
beep, "hi, this is karl." he scoffs. "she knows that already."
beep, "hey umm, i tried calling you and umm... NOPE." he hangs up.
beep, "hi shay! i was just-" he groans frustrated. "god damnit!"
beep, "hhelllooo." he sings, "freaking-"
beep, "hey shay."
this was the one the girl would be playing on replay while she lays in her room doing absolutely nothing.
"hey shay, umm i know it's probably hard with everything right now." he clears his throat. karls voice is a little shaky as he's insanely nervous. "and i just- i wanted to make sure you're okay." he sighs, "but what i told you i'd how i feel and i-... i like you so much shay, but i'm not going to wait around for you to open up or even reply to my texts. i hope that you're okay, and yeah... bye." his voice goes soft as he ends the voice mail.
shay couldn't explain how she felt because if she didn't she's say nothing. because that's what she felt, nothing. she felt numb to anything happy or sad. as she listens to the prerecorded voice clip, she ends up noticing the little things.
the way he almost whispers bye at the end, the way she could basically hear him biting his nails, and the way she'd replay i like you so much, shay over and over again, but it never seemed to lose its meaning. but still it didn't make her feel anything more than immense guilt. naturally she's given up on things to try to heal the numbness, so she finds herself on the internet.
the fucking internet.
it was almost like her eyes were glued to the screen, she hated every second of it, but desperate wanted to keep going. it's an addiction. and addition to self hatred. maybe they were right.
it also felt like she was permanently stuck to her bed. she couldn't move. she felt heavy. every part of her body felt wounded, but the bed still felt comfortable. it felt where she was meant to be. or it felt like what everyone wanted. even karl.
nobody liked her, nobody wanted her. because she's not pretty enough, not famous enough, not white enough, too overreacting, too much of a try hard, just too much.
