Mosaicked Feelings

XXIII: Everything I Can't Live Without

Monday came slower than usual, unlike any other of my Mondays.

Either it was my depressive bubble of heartbreak that had seemed to paralysed time around me. Or every moment of my grieving felt like every second was utilised in just that. 

After when I was left with that haunting picture of Edward and his newest ingénue, glaring from my phone, mocking at my vulnerable state, I couldn't help but wonder why. Why would he go all the way to this extent to prove the already proven points of me, being unworthy of him -- or anyone in general. 

One way or the other, I had spent all my weekend, distracting myself by reading fiction novels, listening to sad music, and writing gibberish lines of poetry. What started as verses of self-reflection transitioned to a collection of heartbroken locutions, and was the only thing that uplifted my mood, only a slight angle in the meantime.

As I tiredly walked through the gates of the university, my feet feeling heavier with every step, it had now become the very place I had begun dreading. I finally made it to class and was not looking forward to them today, because I hadn't completed any of my assignments, and hearing the bickering of my teachers over how careless I had become from a perfectionist student, was not my favourite podcast for a Monday morning. I had ignored most of my friends -- or acquaintances to be exact -- texts over having me send my assignments and notes to them. I just didn't bother anymore, not having it in me to even acknowledge them.

Sitting beside Marilyn silently, I just took out my phone and distracted myself with anything but her study-related rants.

Several minutes passed by and after Marilyn was done managing the stacks of paperwork in front of her and tossing them in a file inside her bag, she turned to face me with a sad frown. I could tell from the corner of my eye that she had already deciphered my camouflaged heartbroken aura.

"I know it's not my place to ask," She took a deep breath before beginning. "But you know, you could tell me what happened."

"Nothing happened," I said a little too mournfully than I intended to, turning away from her despite her seeing right through me. "I'm alright."

"Edward has been trying to reach out to you," She addressed, still confused about the whole dilemma. "He isn't even telling me what happened."

"I don't know why he's making you a part of this. I'm sorry," I answered blankly, keeping my gaze fixed on my phone screen.

"I don't know what's gotten into you lately," Marilyn pointed, incredulously. "You've been acting... Strange."

I let out an exasperated sigh, not knowing how to express myself in the most concise manner, when I was just all over the place. I didn't know if whatever I would tell her would even make sense to her, and she probably might end up thinking I'm just acting silly and being overdramatic over nothing. From what I had inferred from my incessant dwelling over mine and Edward's separation was that it was all my fault and I wasn't good enough for him to keep liking me. I should've seen it coming, him being with me until he found a better substitute.

It was like we could have been that beautiful picture if mine and his puzzles would fit together well. Yes, there was a part of the puzzle indent that fit my carves perfectly, completing the image, but the other bits probably didn't. And maybe that's why in the end, we were just, incompatible.

"You know Edward's throwing a party for your and his birthday," She continued, slicing between my thoughts.

"Really?" I frowned at the proposition. Why would he do something like that for me? I didn't think I was likeable enough for him anymore to be doing something so out of the way. It just didn't suit his intentions -- let alone his actions.