Wanted For Pleasure: vol 3

|29| Save me

𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙣
⊱ ─────────── ⊰

I continued to wait.

And remained patient. For the most part.

Hope only slithered away once. Briefly. I had a bad dream that Chris ran off with Sabrina to raise the baby. Sick, I know. My full body shuddered.

I reread his note so much that I've remembered it. I had to because my tears blurred the ink and dissolved the paper to nothing.

Every ring seemed like it would be the last, as if he'd pick up. Somehow, if I willed it hard enough, I thought I could hear him breathe.
It's bullshit, I think. He probably doesn't even have the phone.

I can feel all optimism leaving my body.

By the fourteenth day, I thought he could be dead.

Now, day sixteen, I'm down a dress size and purely surviving off of fumes. I pinch myself to feel anything anymore. Chris said in the note that he'll be alright as long as I continue loving him. My heart does beat for him, only slowly now. And it aches with each pump but that's also how I know I'm alive and not dead from heartbreak. Or starvation. Sleep deprivation. Any of the above.

I wish I were dead. Not in a suicidal way, but more romantic. Like, Romeo and Juliet. I figure if I died, in some noble way, if he loves me as much as my brain keeps reminding me that he does, then he'll come back. He'll save me like he always does and I'll forgive him like I always do because even though he puts me in these situations, he gets me out of them.