Night

Unrequited

Blurb: A workaholic finds that he's losing someone more important than his work.

She's fire that brings both warmth and searing pain. She's scorching; her voice and smile burns. Yet I still want to return to the past, to before, to her. I call her A, because she's the first and will always be. Like fire, she faded until there was nothing. Ashes are all that remains.

I see A five days a week and yet it's not the same. There's a wall between the both of us now, and I can't seem to break it down, no matter what I do.

So if you have a problem, you try to fix it right? The moment I saw the wall, I knew that this would be difficult. I physically couldn't talk to A about this. Communication has not always been my strong point in relationships.

To first analyze the problem, I address it. Like how we spend time together. A moment would be like this:

"Hey, A. How are you?" I say, leaning over in interest. A, I'm there for you always, I should've said. I really care about you. You know?

"I was reading (story name) this morning! I love it so much, (name) and (name) are so perfect together. And they ×××× in the next chapter!" Her voice is enthusiastic but she shifts her chair away. Away from me.

I notice, hurt, but keep myself under control. I manage to keep the conversation flowing somehow. Every moment we have starts roughly the same, and I wonder if she even cares by now.

I have to fix this. Even acquaintances have more topics to talk about than us. Then again, where is the 'us' in this relationship? It's just 'me' and 'her'.

For preparation, I spend the next three weeks brainstorming solutions. Should I tell someone? Maybe C or B? (B is my second, and C the third). It's the first week. I close my book and return it to the shelf. No, they wouldn't understand.

Is there something I did wrong? I think as I scroll through my music playlist. It's the second week. Or something happened to A, causing her to change?

On the third week, I've become so drained from work that there was no time to think of anything else. It was complete hell. The need for perfection drew bags under my eyes and strangled my sleep schedule.

After recovering from the third week, I've come to a startling solution:

To let her go.

I spend the rest of the day considering and reconsidering the solution. It's for the best right? I think, pacing in my bedroom.

I spend another week of ignoring it.

The week after, attempting to deny its existance.

It doesn't take me three weeks to look at it in a new perspective. A no longer needs me in her life. Why do I try anyway? After the weighing the pros and cons, it's not

worth it

anymore.