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I rested on his exes bed, an action i'd never admit to anyone else but him.
Although we broke up, my love for him isn't going to easily fade away.
"Aye!" Chief poked his head through my dorm room door, "You coming to practice today?"
"nope." I popped my lips contently. I heard him sigh and step into the room, meaning there would be a lecture I wasn't trying to hear.
"Jeremiah you can't let Angelo hold you back, you gotta move on." He motivated me, "everybody is getting worried about you, at least let people know you're alive."
I glanced down from the roof to see him standing in the center of my room, "you should be glad you two broke up, not depressed."
His words resided with me in silence for a second before speaking up, "why are you so happy we broke up?"
My question evidently threw him off guard, "what? because he wasn't good for you and i saw that like any friend would, why?"
I wanted to answer and let him know what my mind has been conjuring up. A bunch of theories and possibilities about me and his breakup. I noticed how eager Chief was, and his voice informing me how gullible I was. The full theory is that Chief lied to get me and him broken up because of his own personal problems with him. A piece of me wanted to believe that was true, while another wanted it to be false.
If it were true, me and him broke up for nothing and we can find love again hopefully. If not, then i guess me and him really are over.
"nothing, just wondering." I excused the topic, "you can leave now, i'm not going no where."
"Jeremiah—"
"Chief, respectfully leave." I asked again politely. I brought my eyes back up to the ceiling and listened carefully for his exit.
The door clicked shut, confirming his departure, leaving me by myself.
I released a heavy and bored sigh, jaded with the everyday cycle of nothingness.
since we fell apart, all that i've been able to do is lay down and let boredom consume me. Not too long after he left is when I came to the realization that a lot of the entertainment i garnered derived from his antics.
I have little to no motivation to do basketball, go to class, or even get up from the comfortable spot on his bed. I've been here for so long that the memory foam formed a crater from my larger build.
There were times I would even go through his clothes, some of which he's never worn before despite how knew it was. I miss all the times he would stress about the outfits he put on—majority of the time it looked fine. There was something about constantly letting him knew he looked perfect in my eyes that was just so inherent to me.
Now, I can't help but wonder how he's doing—or if he still stresses on what to wear. I doubt he has been wearing anything, considering nobody has seen him besides the one time in the past month he decided to go to a lecture. It's strange, missing something so small and mundane, something i barely ever paid too much attention to. I guess that's how it always is—you don't realize how much the little things matter until they're memories.
