So, I didn't hear or see Harrison again since after I left his house a month ago, and I honestly can't help but be hurt by it, and it actually makes me feel stupid and ridiculous. All of my messages went unanswered, and I would spend most of my days at work feeling hopeful but then it would crash and burn the minute that I realized that he wasn't going to walk through the door.
Then one night I tried to go to his house to ask what I had done wrong but I was just met with the same thing as the next 30 days, nothing. I really don't know what else I should've expected, I guess the fool in me thought that something might've changed between him and I after that night, that I'd managed to get closer to him and start to piece together the mysterious puzzle of his life together
I guess maybe I thought, idiotically, that maybe he hadn't meant it when he said that he didn't care about me, that there was a sliver of him that held the same affection for me that I had for him, but of course all of that was crushed by the first week of radio silence.
I've been stupidly moping around this whole entire time while also growing more and more angry at myself for that pull in my chest when I'd think about him, which is all I seem to do anymore. And the fact that I missed him so deeply was only adding to my self destruction misery
I honestly feel like I've lost something that wasn't even mine in the first place, and the more I try and make sense of it, the more confused I get
It's like he's dangled this hope on the end of a string, just out of my reach, only to rip it away from me just as I'm about to clutch it. I feel like that might be his intention, trying to get me where he wanted me, where he knew I was in too deep to crawl my way out, and just left me there without a second thought.
I mean, I couldn't escape his face, it haunts me whether I was awake or asleep, my dreams would become more vivid and tortuous, some days I would wake up and I swear I could smell his cologne lingering in my room
For a while I was worried, concerned that maybe something had happened, feeling sick over the thought that he had hurt himself or that maybe he had finally ended up 'getting lucky' as he would put it
Some nights I would spend, googling drug interactions, the effects of mixing whatever he mindlessly puts in his body, just trying to understand how it works or even how to help
I pitifully spent one afternoon calling hospitals in and around the area, asking if there was anyone that had been admitted by his name, only to get no luck.
Eventually that worry was quickly splintered into hurt when Abby and Becca mentioned that they saw him at some club one weekend while they were there, and he had seemed to be having the time of his life and didn't have a care in the world
I honestly couldn't explain to them why I seemed so upset by it, or why I winced at the mention of his name while Abby told me the recollection of the night. I had to excuse myself when her and Becca were telling me about how he almost had sex with one of the dancers on the couch in front of everyone, before he noticed them of course and then he apparently jumped up and dragged her out of the club.
God I'm such an idiot.
I mean, yes, I know I have no reason to even be jealous, I'm in a relationship and Harrison is allowed to do whatever he wants- but it was the sharp ache over being discarded so carelessly that had me curled up on my couch most nights, flicking through the pictures from the aquarium on my camera and scolding myself for even being stupid enough to be crying over it
If I needed any reassurance that the feelings I had towards Harrison were completely one sided, and the things that meant a great deal to me were not important to him whatsoever, then this was a reaffirming slap in the face
