There is a blankness.
A moment where I feel like breathing is forced. This past week I assumed I was feeling extra shitty because of my accident, and while that is partly the reason, I realize that majority of what I've been feeling subsided the moment I laid upon Usman.
A sob escapes me, and my heart twists. Usman, is why I've been feeling so shitty. I hate it, I hate him. I don't want to see him.
He seems to be coming closer, the room is getting smaller, and my lungs struggle to access air. There is a fight to allow the flow of oxygen into my brain, I find I cannot think.
Breathe in and out Amra, carefully.
The tightness around my head loosens, like someone lifting up a band from it, oxygen makes it to my brain, all coherent thoughts return, I can hear again, smell again, feel again.
With the return of my senses, an immense feeling of longing washes over me, like a cold water shock, that causes me to blink continously. I want to hug Usman; I missed him. His lean biceps, angry scar, his soft eyes, long nose, all of it I want to-
I also want to slap him; He just left me!
He's standing in front of me. The desire to slap him outweighs my desire to hug him. I want him gone. I don't want to see his face. I hate this man.
All this while I told myself that I was so angry at Maimuna for being late, that I sped to cool my anger, and crashed out of my carelessness. I realize now that I was so furious because of Usman, because he had yelled at me, and has ignored me for days. All that sleeping for long periods of time was because I didn't want to think about the fact that he'd gone ghost on me. Again.
He promised never again.
'Get away from me'
Usman stops mid squat, his eyes widening. I'm looking up at him from my position on the floor.
I watch his mouth form to make words, but I don't want to know what he has to say. He yelled at me, then proceeded to ignore me. I was in the hospital, and he was nowhere to be found. And now he appears to me like some kind of soothing balm for a pulsing pain I had no idea was there, and I refuse to use him to ease my pain. I'll feel it, and be done with it, but to accept him like I am something to be ignored and paid attention to at one's convenience is not an option.
'Amra.' He looks at me, confusion on his face.
That beautiful face.
'I said get away from me.' I repeat myself.
'Leave my ward. Now.' I am trying to get up now, and I am struggling, being angry and being ill don't go well together.
In an attempt to get away from Usman, I get up too quickly, and I get dizzy. He reaches out to grab me, but I pull away. He left. He just upped and left, after yelling at me! I have taken so many things from men, but I guess I don't respond well to being abandoned.
'No.' I put one hand out between us to make it clear that he shouldn't touch me.
He left like the last time. Zero contact.
My mother has made it to my side by now. She doesn't say anything to him but I know she's giving him a look that tells him he really needs to leave.
His footsteps receed out of the room, as my mother helps me to the couch, where I sit with my head in my laps.
An immense desire to scream consumes me. He just came in here like he didn't absolutely disrespect me and leave. I have had enough of this shit. I've been in the hospital almost a week, so it's been a little to two weeks since we last spoke. The fact that Usman was comfortable with that annoys me, if he's okay treating his situationships like that, what about his friends? We're friends.
Usman and I haven't labeled ourselves as anything. I understand that, but taking off and not letting people you talk to almost every day know that you're okay, for a second time is unacceptable.
I know it seems stupid, that I am so angry at him for leaving and truth be told, I don't quite understand it myself, but I am angry.
When I was 'with' Ahmad, the worst time of my life was the period of time when I could neither see nor talk to him. I'd searched for his Instagram account for weeks until I came upon it one Sunday afternoon. I was overfilled with joy; I couldn't keep still. All I wanted to do now that I'd convinced my mom to give me her old phone was to send him a message. And I did.
Looking back now I realize that Ahmad never really spoke to me, he replied to my messages. And when he noticed I was pulling back for fear of feeling like a burden, he'd reply to my messages on time or initiate a conversation, to keep me holding on to something that was non-existent.
I played right into his game. He gave me 30% and whenever he was willing to give 40%, I felt high, it was like taking a drug, and I didn't care that it wasn't a hundred percent, I cared that it was more than 30%.
Usman leaving. Ghosting me like that made me feel stupid, the kind of stupid I felt the day Ahmad told me to 'Just move on.'
There is a moment in life when everything changes. A paradigm shift. And I remember that was one of the moments, reading his message, I knew I was never going to talk to him again. I knew he never loved me; I knew this because I loved him, and I would've never told him to 'Just move on.'
My mother left me to myself in the ward.
Ahmad.
Ahmad.
Ahmad.
So much time has passed, but who he is to me, what he's done, it has yet to pass. Who I talk to, how I talk to them, who I block, who I befriend, what I laugh at, what my playlist looks like, my favorite book, how I view myself, how I view the world, how I view men, how harshly I judge myself. The advice I give other people, the advice I give myself. How much I cry, how much I don't cry, how angry I get, how angry I am with Usman right now...
This has nothing to do with Usman, it has everything to do with Ahmad.
Ahmad. On my mind.
Ahmad. On my thoughts.
He's everywhere.
He's everything.
Ahmad.
Ahmad.
Oh god, Ahmad.
No. I shake my head
No. I cross my arms
No. I shake my head
No. I uncross my arms
No. I touch my heart
No. It's hurting.
No. I shake my head.
No. I shake my head.
No. No. No. No. No.
Not again. We got over this.
We never did.
He's the way I walk, he's the anger I feel, he's how poorly I sleep. He's the art I create.
And he's the story I'll tell.
Usman leaving wasn't the reason I was so full of rage. He just remined me of everything Ahmad was. And my emotions resurfaced.
I can't do this again. I shake my head.
I can't feel sick to my stomach. Full of love and then of pain because I have nowhere to pour it.
I can't want to die.
I can't.
'I can't' I am sobbing.
'I can't' I am shaking.
'I can't' But I am.
I am feeling everything I chose to stop feeling the day Ahmad told me to 'Just move on'
I realize now, that I did not moved on.
I ghosted him. As he always did me.
.
.
.
Nafisah.

YOU ARE READING
Infinite Endings
Romance--- ‼️CURRENTLY BEING EDITED‼️ Blurb --- They say you have three great loves Our first love is blind. Heartbreaking and fleeting. Finally, at 24 I've moved on. Our second love is not as confusing as the first, not as dramatic or intense. But still...