Challenge Accepted

25 Puzzles

Stella's prospective

Photography Quote: " Reassurance is one thing photography can give me. It has proof of what happened at what time. You can take a photo and look back at it for evidence. " - (author)

I finally got the courage, Jay really got into my head, and I prepared myself for worse or better. I told Jay and Scar my plan, to call Z for the final straw, to stop my overthinking and get to the facts. Enough time has passed. Enough overthinking has been done. It's time for the truth. I need reassurance. I need to know if I really have to let go of our relationship or not, if we should really wait for more time to pass and become friends or enemies, to become whatever in the future. There are 3 options, call him and talk then, he calls back and we talk SOON, or we talk in person. I used Scars phone just in case he wouldn't pick up mine, if he doesn't pick up a *66 number then I'd call him on her phone again with her number showing, and if it still doesn't work, I'll balls up and call on my phone. If he doesn't answer any of the calls, I know the answer. I'd leave a voice message on Scar's number just in case he wouldn't pick up my call.

That night I called *66 on Scar's number and he answers. I let him talk first just in case he hangs up right when he hears my voice. I finally speak and I know he knew right away who I was. His formality dropped to saying "what's up" from his "hello" he called me another female name and I questioned it more than I was supposed to. But I told my speech. And I cried as I told it. My voice shakes as I try so hard to hold the tears from falling but they fall faster. After some serious talk we actually laughed a little from my idiotic fear. "You're still stuck with me" these words mean a hell of a lot after not talking to him for months.

So, we planned a call ...

We missed that call

Planned another

And missed that

Then I planned another.

A loop, it's not going to work...

I tried to find as much logic as I could, trying to fit pieces together. Seeing that he didn't answer my text and the call went straight to voicemail right when I tried to call. You'd think I'd learn from him not answering but apparently, I didn't. He texted me on snap telling me he forgot his password for one of the apps we used to call on. I laughed to myself as part of me felt relieved and the other was still holding a sharp feeling in my chest. I told him to text me when he's ready to call. My punishment was waiting for almost another week. I texted him asking when he could call. This was about five am his time and six am my time. "Tomorrow night?" He replied.

"Sure" I sent

To my knowledge tomorrow means the next day not later in the day. Especially when you text each other at 5-6am about plans unfortunately his tomorrow meant that night. I tried so hard to give him another benefit of the doubt, but I couldn't find a reason. I'm the one who always reaches out after we almost lost each other. For once I'd like him to take my hints and reach out to me. Maybe because he is busier, becoming a professor and focusing on his Photojournalism and it's the hour difference. But even so, as many excuses I give him, anger still builds up. I gave him so many chances and I'm starting to not care what he does at all. I'm tempted to accept guys flirting who are willing to give me the smiles and attention I deserve. I either need a boy break or need to go on a boy hunt and not just focus on one. I know I can pull guys, I just need the confidence and not be so attached to Z. Even if I tell myself these things, I'm not angry at him, no matter how hard I think I might be it's not him I'm angry at its myself and that feeling has me forgetting to breathe. Another slash to the underarm where no one can see my pain, showing through my skin. Telling myself I am better off dead. But I realized I still have friends who are there for me. Cutting is better than drugs. At least I personally think so. No matter the distractions I still find time to overthink, I still find at least five minutes of time where I'm not doing anything, even if I'm exhausted, I'm staying at least an hour more because my body can't seem to rest, my mind can't seem to shut up. I'll get better, I just have to. I'm pathetic, a worthless girl who is depressed and hurting herself because of a broken heart, scars are on my body because of myself. My knife collection screams at me to choose one of their shiny blades to touch my skin. My iron is yelling at me to be free, to find relief.