Sunday went by with an emptiness. Nothing I said or talked about held meaning. Everything was pointless and worthless, just like me. The empty dreadful feeling filled me to the brim with sadness and all hope had been lost on Saturday. All the stupid Hollywood and fanfiction daydreams had been replaced with nightmares and breakdowns, tears and hyperventilating.
Nate told me Saturday night that everything was going to be ok.
"It'll get better," he said.
I spent the night crying and waking up every half hour from nightmares and from randomly hyperventilating in my sleep.
Everywhere I looked, there was Nate.
The promise ring and necklace charm he gave me on my side table, his guitar strings on my cork board, the dinosaurs he gave me for my birthday on my shelf, the pen he left at my house on the floor, the paper he left on my bed that time saying he loved me rested in the floor, the book I borrowed from him on my table, the clothes I stole from him still in my dresser. The memories of us cuddling on my bed lingered in the air.
I left the house for a few hours and played badminton till my whole body went numb, but the empty, cold sadness clung to me like snow clings to your gloves.
When will it be ok, Nate? You say it'll get better, but when? How? I feel so hopeless... The sadness cuts me emotionally, but I cut physically. When will it stop? It hurts me... But the emotional cuts hurt so much more... Nate I'm scared and sorry, I'm in so much pain. I can't tell you any of this because I'm so worried it'll drive you farther away... These rules I set are torture, you're right here but you're so far away... I'm so sorry...
The tears continued all night.
