Survival [completed]

Pleasantries before Turkey

It’s been a little over a week since I got back from the hospital and tomorrow is thanksgiving. It has been one of the most painful and torturous week of my life. On the top of my list would be the fact that Tristan and I were done. Completely, fully, entirely done. What’s worse is I cannot be pissed at him or hate him. It was completely my fault and I have to go through the pain from it. I had gone back to school at the start of this week and I might as well have been new there all over again only worse. Make this school seven.

Everyone was staring at me and everyone was talking about me. At least if  I was new, they didn’t know anything about me here, they did and they spoke about it openly. Everyone was wondering what happened between Tristan and I, why I had missed so many days of school. I’ve heard my own fair share of the stories as I moved from class to class. The best so far was: I got pregnant with Tristan’s child but cause I am a drug addict the child was killed in one of my crazy drug usages and Tristan had broken up with me. Seriously, these people had a wonderful career in the writing industry.

Tristan on his part avoided me as much as he could, which was difficult cause well, we were after in all the same classes. He worked around that by getting someone else to sit next to me. Added with the fact that he looked ragged and so sleep deprived I started feeling sleepy by simply staring at him. If that wasn’t a direct stab to my heart, I didn’t know what was.

To make things worse, my father had quit teaching and so Mrs Sherry was back. She was the most boring English teacher in the history of English teachers. That wasn’t an understatement. She droned on and on about the techniques of poetry but never actually got to do one. Half her class was spent with her zoning out.

So, it would be understandable if I said that, it being the day before Thanksgiving, and the school had let us have the whole day off, I had mixed feelings about it. I was happy cause I didn’t have to go back to that hell-hole and actually see Tristan. I loved seeing him but then when I look in his eyes, they are full of hurt and pain. I just couldn’t bear to see it. I had spent half my time at school willing myself to not cry in front of him.  I was upset cause well, isn’t it obvious? I didn’t have an excuse to see Tristan. I felt so disconnected and at a loss.

They say it took time to heal a broken heart? Bullshit, it’s been a week, I feel worse than I was at the start, I’ve lost my appetite, I’ve not smiled without feeling like I needed to use all the muscles in my body just to pull the corners of my lips up, my eyes were two holes in which water was constantly threatening to fall out off. I only smile or speak when my father is around or if Jasper’s around. Even with Jasper, I’ve given up entertaining him. It’s either I am in tears and he’s trying to get me to stop or I zone out while he’s speaking.

Jasper’s had his fair share of this breakup, he’s had to console both sides: Tristan and Me. I felt bad for the guy. But he knew that this was something we both had to work out on our own. That however, didn’t stop him from putting in his two cents. The conversation was pretty much the same each time even today,

“How is he?” I’d ask him

“The same as he was yesterday” he’d reply.

I am seated on the counter at the kitchen today, and am watching Jasper clean out the refrigerator. “How bad is it?” I’d ask him.

“Look, the guy’s hurting as bad as you are. You both clearly still love each a lot. So I seriously don’t see why neither of you have figured out that you two clearly better off together.” Jasper would snap at me as he placed the food on the counter. “Are you hungry?”