melancholia ✔︎

overreacted

"Hello? Teen Help at your service."

"Hi Kyle."

I can hear the shock in his voice. He didn't expect me to call back, did he?

I guess always expect the unexpected.

I never did things the way people expected either.

"Amy?" he asks.

"I'm sorry Kyle," I stutter. It was my fault too, I guess, I'll admit. I overreacted, again.

I'm always overreacting, and hurting the people close to me.

That's why I hate bringing people close to me. I only end up pushing them away, muttering lame things about me hurting them.

"Me too. I really didn't mean that. You know that... Right?" he apologises.

"We all make mistakes. It's just if you don't have it, like depression, you'll never know what it feels like." I bite my lip.

"I understand now," he says sympathetically. "How can I make things better?"

But still. How can he understand me when I can't even understand myself?

It's hard to expect that much of someone. I can't understand myself, let alone can anyone else.

"Tell me about you, Kyle," I say, trying to fix the things between us.

He doesn't say anything, not a single word. I wonder why.

"Kyle?" I ask, after the awkward pause of silence.

"Yeah? I don't have anything to say."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"I've got to go now, sorry Amy. Call back tomorrow?" he says, and I can tell in his voice that he's itching to get away, that I definitely said something wrong.

"Maybe. Bye Kyle."

He hangs up before I can press the red button.

There's always a first time I guess.