17: It's Short And Painful, But Here's The Epilogue

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The worst thing in the world is a broken heart. It's knowing that you've lost the only person who has ever cared about you and the only person who ever gave a damn. Because sure, cuts heal and scars fade but a broken heart is the slowest and the most painful wound to heal.

Because I love Phil and he told me that he loved me too. But he is right; we can never be together. He is like a gentle candle; a light in the darkness, a glowing flame. And I am fuel, so when the two collide it explodes in our faces every single time.

We haven't announced it on any social media outlet yet but we have decided that I should move out of the flat for a while. We haven't decided on how long I should go for yet, but I know already that it's going to take a few years for this to settle down and heal. But we can't stay like this. The only thing left in our relationship is destruction.

I'm going to go to rehab for a few months to straighten myself out. I'm even going to give up cigarettes because I know how much Phil hates it when I smoke, and I want to hopefully earn Phil's forgiveness one day. I don't know if what I did was forgivable though. All of the lies I've told, all of the secrets I've kept hidden from him for months. It wasn't fair on him, especially when he was struggling with bulimia too.

And it's okay. I understand; I was wrong. I should have been open and honest with Phil. The truth is, in this world everyone gets damaged and it's impossible to escape most of the damage, but the pain and lies I inflicted upon Phil weren't necessary. And now I'm sorry, but it's too late.

On the way out of the apartment with a suitcase in my hand and a train ticket to go to the Rehabilitation Centre, Phil's fingers loop loosely around my wrist. He won't look me in the eye though. To be honest I don't think I could look into his eyes either.

"Be safe, Dan," he whispers, and my eyes turn cloudy. He releases my wrist.

"You too," I tell him in a quiet tone. We stand in silence at the doorway until Phil clears his throat. I hate this awkwardness between us.

"I'll post a tweet about you moving out, don't worry. Just...just focus on getting better, okay? You can call me if you ever need anything."

"Thanks," I say, and take a chance by leaning into him and wrapping my arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. "Goodbye, Phil," I whisper against his ear, feeling my throat tighten with tears.

His breath catches in his throat and he hesitantly hugs me back, holding me tight against his chest for a long moment. I can feel his chest rising and falling with every breath. When I pull away, I can see that he's crying but he's trying to hide his tears. "Goodbye, Dan."

I step out the door and he doesn't look up at my face. I watch him as he closes the door and locks it. I gave my apartment key back to Phil so now I can never come back here without Phil's permission. I don't live here anymore. I guess it's for the best.

I walk out onto the street with a numbing pain in my heart, and I feel raw and empty inside. But I feel something else too. Hope. I feel hope that maybe I'll get better and I can come back to Phil and maybe we can go back to being friends again.

And without hope, everything else is pointless.

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