inspired by andré aciman's novel and luca guadagnino's film.
julia has a summer house up north. not too far up since she lives in a luxurious chicago townhouse. beside her lake house resides a cottage along the same property, divided by trees as a...
it feels like all i've been doing lately is just sulking, it also feels as though i'm dragging myself through the days with such heavy pressure pressing down on me that i can't get off of me. even when i'm around her, even when i'm close enough to feel her breath on my skin, i still can't help but feel like i'm sinking deeper and deeper into this epitome of nothingness.
i promised myself that i wouldn't do this. i had made that promise over and over again. but recently, i found myself seeking something new, a new promise. i promised myself that i'd soak up every moment, every touch, and every last piece of her while i still had the chance, to live in the moment before it's gone. but no matter how hard i try, i still can't seem to fill the emptiness that's settled inside of me, knowing that it'll all be over soon.
but it's more than that. it's so much more than just the way her hands move over me and the way her lips find mine in the dark. it's an aching pain, silently, clawing, gnawing, eating me alive just to see me suffer, it seems to have been growing inside me since the day i realized i'd fallen for her. and now, it won't go away.
each day feels like an eternity. it feels like time itself is stretching out longer just to torture me. im literally finding myself counting down to the twenty-fifth like it would be my only escape. i think to myself that the moment i leave and the moment that i'm back home, everything will magically make sense again. i miss my mother, i even miss the smell of her perfume when she hugs me. i miss my friends, the ones who haven't seen me since this summer began and the ones i shut out midway through. i miss the comfort of my own bed, the tranquility of my own life before all of this. before billie. i miss when billie eilish had only been a musical artist i'd hear every now and then. i miss my life before falling in love, before falling into unrequited love. and now, i'm too deep, and i couldn't ever get out.
and yet, i know the plan. i've told myself over and over again how this is supposed to go. when i'm back home, when the door to this chapter of my life slams shut behind me, i'll forget about her completely. i'll throw myself into college and study hard into something that's real, schooling isn't something that hurts and betrays you. i'll leave all of this behind, her included. she's just another memory for me to lock away and never think about again.
except...
except for all the pictures.
my camera roll is already full of her. dozens of pictures and videos of billie, smiling, laughing, making faces at the camera, sprawled out on my bed, in my hoodie, her hair a mess, but still perfect in every which way. there's even a folder, one that i named 'me + bil' as if giving it a cute little nickname somehow makes our situation less dangerous and less potent. it's a collection of all the moments i've captured of her and little moments she's captured of me, they're small and cute little memories that i've hoarded like they're pieces of her i can keep even when she's gone.
it's really stupid, honestly. no one else knows about anything we've done, so i'm just keeping all my pain to myself, as per usual. but if someone were to stumble across my phone, snoop through and swipe through my photos and they'd find that folder—what would i say? i can't give them the details of my summer, i can't possibly ever tell a soul that i'd become good friends with billie eilish. really good friends at that. i'd literally just have to lie to their fucking faces. maybe i could just laugh it off and say, "oh, that? those are just pictures for my fanpage, we've never even met," and hope they buy it. or, i could shrug and tell them the truth and say, "yeah, we had a fling." like it was nothing. like it didn't mean the world to me. like she wasn't the one person who has ever made me feel like this. nothing more. nothing less. just another fling.
as of right now, her head rests in my lap. she fell asleep sometime after we started watching 'riding in cars with boys', one of my favorite movies. i keep the volume low, the sounds of the film barely even audible as i scroll through my phone, mindlessly clearing out old apps and deleting things i no longer need. but then, as if the universe is mocking me and literally pointing and laughing in my face, my thumb hesitates over that folder in my camera again. that stupid, stupid folder filled with her. pictures of billie. pictures of me. pictures of us. all from these past few weeks.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
i swipe through the pictures, my thumb hovering over the 'delete all' button, torn between wanting to erase it all and the desperate need to hold onto the good we had for just a little bit longer. each picture i have is just a reminder of what i felt. what i still feel. and if i'm being honest with myself, the temptation to just wipe them from my phone completely as if i'm wiping them from my memory is there. but i know that deep down that i won't. i just can't.
so ultimately i don't. i just sit there, staring at the screen and let the images flick by one after another. her smile, her eyes, the way the light catches her at just the right moment. i keep them. i keep them all because part of me knows that letting go of these pictures means letting go of her, and i'm not ready for that. at least not yet, and most certainly not tonight. maybe just give me a few days...
my fingertips are literally tangled in her hair right now, my hand absentmindedly moving through the dark brown strands, rubbing gently at her scalp and scratching in a way i know she loves. she's just laying there, asleep soundly, seeming peacefully even though i have a chaotic mess circling my mind. her breathing was slow and steady, soft snores escaping that button nose. she's completely unaware of the storm swirling in my thoughts, and she'll never be aware.
i wonder if she's dreaming, and if she is, i wonder if i'm in those dreams, even as a background character. i know that to her i'm just another passing thought to her, another person to fill the silence for when she's lonely right now, but part of me still hopes. if she were to say yes—to really show she cares one day, best believe that i'd take that opportunity straight away—to be hers.
the word pathetic seems to be the only word that's been circling my mind lately, to tell me exactly how i've behaved. in honesty, it's pathetic how quickly i fell for her. i keep repeating the same things and feelings that i've felt. but i did. that's what really happened. i really fell, and i fell hard.
its hard to move on when it's the only thing occupying every single waking thought of yours. and the worst part is, i don't even regret it. i don't regret falling in love with her even if it was one-sided, even if it's killing me on the inside. i let myself love her, and for a brief moment, i got to know what it felt like to truly love someone else. even if it wasn't real on her end, it was real to me. and that has to count for something.
i won't regret this. i won't ever regret us. unless, maybe i will in the future, but as of right now, i'm still grateful. but what i do regret—what i'll probably always regret—is making myself work so hard for someone who could never love me back. it's the exhaustion of it, the constant effort, the constantly bending backwards—literally—and breaking my bones just to fit into the space she's carved out for me, only to realize that space was never meant for me at all.
