You sit by your phone all day, waiting for a reply from them, convincing yourself they're not ignoring you. "They're just busy, don't worry about it." You tell yourself. Or "They probably had a long day, don't bug them."
You sit and wait and think and fret. Thinking turns into over thinking, getting turns to worrying and doubt. Do they care anymore? Am I annoying them? Am I too clingy? Are they cheating?.. The thoughts get deeper and more frequent, more persistent, more dangerous. The pit in your grows deeper and the knot in your throat gets tighter as you force your demons down and pretend you aren't hurting.
When you do talk to them, you hide your fretting and dangerous thoughts and smile like nothing is wrong. You don't mention it because you know they'll deny any of it and call you silly and laugh and you'll laugh along with them.. What then, huh? You bury your pain and pretend it isn't there. Soon, you get used to the silent treatment.
Talking till two every morning turned into a few hours a day, to a couple times every day, to you're-lucky-for-a-text-at-all every few days. All along, the pain intensifies, the pit grows, and the knot tightens. Your demons are winning. And they still shrug it off like no big deal. You've become numb and distant and they say "You've changed," without realizing they were the reason why. They turned the strongest weapon upon you: yourself. Killing you and keeping their hands clean.
You look in the mirror now, months later and you see the same face, but a different person entirely. You hung yourself with the knot in your throat, and drowned yourself in the pit in your stomach. Your pain and silence killed you in the end, not them.
All in all, you're demons won.
YOU ARE READING
One Paragraph Stories
Short StoryShort stories, between a paragragh to a page or two in length. These have no direct correlation to one another, but may or may not develop into longer, detailed stories later.
