May Kill Me

Five

A gust of cold wind made me retreat further into my jacket, as I leaned closer to the plaque at the base of the bronze statue.

This was what I've been doing for the past two weeks since I moved to New Glasgow: walking around the city and reading plaques before hitting the books and working on assignments.

Well, not just that, but that has been a large part of it.

It was only after I moved out of my mom's place, and away from Stanton, that I felt like I could breathe, and relax.

The shit that Jonathan pulled off... I was so enraged I wanted nothing more than to bash his face in, and pummel him until nothing but blood came out of his mouth.

I could picture it, him on the ground, me on top of him, beating that smug expression off of his face.

Instead, I walked away.

That's what I did, I swallowed my pride (and my violence) and walked away.

There was nothing else I could think about at that moment other than putting as much distance between me and that excuse for a human being.

All I could hear was the deafening breathing, and rage crashing against my ribs like ocean waves during a storm.

I'm not sure how long I walked before the rage subsided, and my hearing started picking up on other things: hooting, the chirping of crickets, the gentle snapping of a twig.

I was suddenly hit by the realization that I was alone in the middle of nowhere...

Straightening up, I moved away from the statue of the city's founder and started walking towards the coffee shop where I spent most of my afternoons studying.

Cliff's was an accidental discovery I made during my second week of school.

I liked the business of it, the constant noise, and the fact that I was never left alone with my thoughts.

When I first moved to New Glasgow, after the initial excitement wore off, I did something I probably shouldn't have done.

I typed Jonathan's account name into the Instagram search bar.

It was a very stupid thing to do.

My ex, as it turned out, was having a very good time.

New York City was treating him very well.

His feed was filled with pictures of him in his dorm room with a Boston Red Sox baseball on, smiling at the camera. Other pictures depicted him on the steps of MoMA, eating ramen at a restaurant, and walking along the Brooklyn Bridge. He appeared to be living his best life, and I couldn't help but wonder who was taking all these photos.

One of these photos had @mia.culpa tagged under the caption Best ramen in NYC!

mia.culpa was (from her Instagram) a pretty girl with an upturned nose and shoulder-length dark brown hair. Her feed was that of sprawling on beaches, eating at restaurants, and posing with other pretty girls.

Good for you, Jonathan, for moving on so fast. I thought.

A blast of heat, the scent of coffee, and easy-listening music hit me as I opened the glass door to Cliff's.

After placing my usual order of a decaf latte and grilled cheese sandwich, I picked a spot at the farthest side of the coffee shop and prepared myself for several good hours of studying.

While it was refreshing to be in a place where no one knew or cared about me, it was a challenge to not dwell on the past, not spiral down the barrage of thoughts and mild paranoia that plagued me whenever my brain wasn't preoccupied with other things.