Guests

I Wannabe Happy

"Gareth! Gareth!"

Another day I wake up shouting his name. Another night where nightmares triumphantly invade a peaceful sleep that I lost a week ago.

Since then, my days have become a succession of crying, bitterness at feeling reduced to a shell of a person. I insult to everyone around me for not understanding me, and shout at any confusion, clumsiness, or mistake I make. I have become this, and luckily, I don't have any mirrors to look at myself because I shattered them all at the first opportunity I had.

If I had one in front of me, I would find a girl who seems to have aged overnight, with dark circles surrounding bloodshot and irritated eyes, disheveled hair with twenty million knots—I might shave my head at any moment—my cheeks dirty and red from crying and trying to wipe them clean, my nose equally red and mixed with snot and drool coming out of my dry-lipped mouth, and tears. I have lost weight because I barely have the appetite to eat.

I'm sure that several media outlets would kill their mothers if necessary to capture this deplorable image of me. How could he love me when I am this sad and depressed person?

I still debate whether it's my fault or his. I'm not sure if the end of our relationship depended on me or if it was an open secret, which leads me to hate myself even more for not being able to anticipate it and prevent it.

I pick up my phone and open Instagram, but instead of using my athenadiaz account, I log in with a fake one to see the stories he and Anna post. It hurts to see them so happy; they almost seem made for each other. Moreover, several of their followers comment that they are a better couple than when he was with me, and the worst part is that both of them like those comments.

Now they are together on the beaches of Malibu, and it seems they are planning a getaway to Hawaii before the regular season begins. We talked so many times about going there on vacation, or to the Maldives or the Caribbean, and it was never possible. If it wasn't me, it was him who always came up with a reason to postpone it.

I regret not making it a reality. I would have loved to explore an island with him, talk about everything under the sun, laugh out loud, and have an amazing day as if we were just ordinary people.

I feel so envious of Anna, for everything she has with him: her body caressed by him, her hair brushed away from her beautiful face by him, her hands that can hold his, her lips that kiss him, her legs that intertwine with his waist when they're together... even her voice is more melodious than mine. I can't even stand the sound of my own voice!

"How are you, my dear?" my mother says as she peeks through the door. I was about to scream in frustration again...

"I don't feel like being awake because I remember everything, and I don't feel like sleeping because I'll have a new nightmare where he laughs with Anna, his friends, and the press at me. And on top of that, I have to be naked. My dreams can't be any crueler!"

My mother approaches, hugs me, and kisses my hair while, surprisingly, I start crying again. It's only a matter of minutes before I tell her to go to hell once more.

"What can I do, Mom? I can't bear to keep living like this."

"Don't keep living like this. I know it's easier said than done, but you have to understand that no matter how much you think about it, Gareth won't come back."

She bites her tongue. On another occasion, she would have added a "thank God" that would have received a negative response. Why the hell do I have to keep defending that disgraceful man? Is it some way to justify those years we spent together? Do I have so little dignity that I can't bring myself to tell him to go to hell already?