Myocardium

Part 41

It doesn't take long for our ways to part, and when they do, an overwhelming feeling of pain hits me. It all hurts. Hurting Rafael hurts. And I know exactly I am hurting him by what I'm doing. Believe me, if there was any other choice, I'd take it in a heartbeat. 

These feelings of distress and betrayal by my own mind aren't going away all until I am sitting in class, mindlessly staring out the window and ruminating about what to do. In the deepest depths of my mind, I am seeking a solution for my problems, but it is hard to tell where exactly I am even supposed to start.

They always say, "You can't mend what you refuse to see." but where do I begin searching for a source I don't even know how to identify? It's not like I'm purposefully ignoring the issues. I am trying to think about what exactly my problem is, but I can't pinpoint it. It's all a mess, my whole head feels as if I am at war. 

Only every now and then, this hopeful voice I've started to get so attached to chimes in to reassure me that it is all going to be okay and that I'll find my way. These past days off work have been so peaceful, so relaxing and rewarming, thinking about how I am going to risk all of this safe space Raf and I have built up for this one night drives me insane.

See, it's not like I don't know at least one thing that would definitely make a difference, and would give me a foundation for a fresh start. It's been quite obvious for a while and it's all Rafael has been begging me to do from the very start. At this point, the oblivion I am trying to talk myself into is seriously losing its legitimacy. As if my body moves without my mind's approval, I reach for my phone that is lying on the surface of the desk with its display down and type some words into the search bar of my go-to browser.

Bartending, five nights a week, 8 pm. – 2 am., monthly wage not too shabby. The club is not even far from our flat. There's another one. Gas station attendant, 5 days a week, nightshift also available. I continue scrolling through the page I've clicked on and realize that, now that I am actively looking, job offers aren't even so absurdly far-fetched as I've deemed them to be before. 

Surely, the payment could never compete with what I earn at the cathouse, but when I say I'd do anything for Rafael, I mean it. Besides, even if I don't use him as a scapegoat for finally trying to pull myself out of this mess, I am at a point where I realize that something has to change if I want to begin getting better. 

No, I don't only know that SOMETHING has to change, I know exactly WHAT it is that I need to change in order to survive. The other things can wait, and I am sure once I've taken care of this, I will be able to untangle this mess of thoughts and feelings. Now, the only person I need to convince is our boss, which won't be as easy as admitting it to my own oblivion.

'I'm going to make things right, just give me this one night to sort things out, okay?', I send my main motivation a short text to make sure I am not going to chicken out, as I've done multiple times in the past. But not tonight. Tonight I am certain about what I must do. I am going to quit, for good this time.

My head begins to hurt from all this thinking. As the ear-piercing bell pulls me back into reality, I take a deep breath, close my eyes and let out a long-dragged sigh, with a vivid image of Rafael popping up in front of my inner eye. My pale fingers are trembling, I only try to ease the feeling of nervousness by clawing my nails into the soft fabric of my grey sweater. Then it hits me. Wait, isn't today Friday? That means-....

"Good morning, guys. I apologize for my delay, I was caught up in a conversation with a professor of yours. Anyways, I am super excited to be finishing the topic of reproduction with a few very interesting points today," his angelic, enthusiastic-as-ever voice rings clearly through the room and echoes in my head as I sit here with perplexed eyes and a most likely open mouth, sinking deeper in my uncomfortable seat out of habit. Unconsciously, a sly smile creeps onto my face, but I hide it from the world by covering my mouth and faking a subtle yawn.