I look at the wall clock in front of me. The short hand's at 2, while the long one was on 12.
It was 2 AM. And I am doing the most cliché thing every teenager does. No. I'm not partying. I'm staring at my ceiling. Thinking.
It's my fault. Should I have done that? My brain says yes. That was the best thing to do. Life didn't give me any more options than this, didn't it? But the look on his face says otherwise. That look made me rethink all of my decisions. It was a mixture of hurt, disappointment, remorse, and any other emotions connected to one thing: hatred. He hated me. I saw it. But he can't blame me can he? He didn't know. I was hurting too. My heart says the decision I made was wrong. But that piece of cardiovascular muscle has no right to speak since it was the reason I had to do it. My heart was broken. Literally. That was the reason I had to let him go. But I can't tell him can I? He's gonna think of all the reasons he could think of, just so he could stay with me. I can't bear to see him hurting everytime he looks at me. He should live his life without me. Without a baggage that he had to carry.
Was the problem solved when I broke up with him? He was hurt. But it would only hurt once right? Not every day. But then this resulted to two broken hearts. So I guess It wasn't that reasonable.
I tossed and turned, and I tried to sleep but, I can't. My conscience is eating me up. I need to get some sleep so I grabbed my phone and my earphones and started to listen to songs.
Moments later, I felt tears welled up in my eyes. Every single song I hear reminded me of him. I can't handle this much pain. I shouldn't be stressed. But, I continued listening.
Memories came rushing back to me. Our first date, first kiss, first dance, first night, first fight, first everything. Every moment I had with him was completely and utterly perfect. I couldn't have asked for more.
Then came the memories of just a few hours ago.
*Earlier that day*
"Veee! Get your ass up! It's five in the afternoon and we have to be there by seven! I'm picking you up by 6:30 a'ight? You don't want to be late for our 5th year anniversary don't you? Call me when you get this message. By the way, I'm the most handsome guy in the universe! You should be thankful that I spent 5 years with you even though your feet stinks. I mean, I could get any girl I want! Why did I stay with someone who has stinky feet?! Bye babe! I know you love smelling my armpits but your feet smells better. I love you!"
This was the first thing I heard when I woke up this afternoon. You see, I have a silly boyfriend with smelly armpits. Kidding. I don't have stinky feet too! Don't believe him! He's a nutjob! A small smile crept to my lips as I heard his voice. And then realization hits me. This is gonna be the last time I was going to hear that cheerful voice of his.
I called him, just like what he asked me to do. And after a couple of rings he finally answered.
"Poop-face! You're finally awake!"
"My name isn't poop-face you jackass! But hey, can we postone our celebration? I'm not feeling well today. I think I may be getting the flu."
"Oh, okay, we'll celebrate when you get better. Can I come over later? I want to take care of you, you know?"
"You have a gig to attend to every once in a while! You can't catch the flu. Don't worry, I'm doing fine. I just need some sleep, a few meds and that's all. I'm sure I'm gonna get better in no time!" (He's part of a famous boy-band.)
"But I want to-"
"Eep! No buts! Now, postpone your reservations and write some songs you're gonna sing to me sometime"
