i spent the night crying because i heard jackson and i's song on my playlist while i was doing school work. my motivation drained and i curled up into a ball and didn't sleep until i saw the sun peeking from my curtains.
the next few nights were the same, pondering over jackson and wondering why he abruptly stopped calling after the first day of our breakup. has he already gotten over me? i hope not. i hope he's suffering the same way that i am. i don't want to be the only one crying over the stupid ex.
i have gotten myself straightened up, however. going back to school made me calm, it gave me a distraction, up until the point where i saw him sitting across the hall, sulking in his own body, but still putting up a smile for his friends.
he always had a way of hiding those feelings and pushing them down until he couldn't breathe, and that's one of the reason's why i stopped crying. he has an abundant amount of emotion and love to give, yet he doesn't want to. it's as if he were playing a game of who could feel the least. he's winning a game i didn't want to play in the first place.
that shouldn't matter to me anymore, yet i can't help but think that he won't get over it. he'll keep bottling himself up even through the next girl, and the next one, and the one after that, and it'll be an endless cycle. who knows, maybe one day he'll explode.
and i don't mean to brag because it isn't an accomplishment, but i am probably going to be the only girl in his life who didn't leave the second things got bad. jackson is one of those boys you can't see a future with. it's all in the moment, and a future is blurry, because regardless of the way i felt with him, that was it. there was nothing beyond that. and maybe us breaking up wasn't such a bad thing.
i wasted my time teaching him how to love and all he did was teach me how to stop. from then on, we both felt nothing and clung on to habit and routine.
all he was was routine.
***
alex called me three times since i met up with dylan. he's scared. more than i am, i think. i keep telling him not to worry, that dylan is fine, but he won't take that as reassurance. he still believes dylan is a lunatic who's out to kill everyone he's with. it makes me feel warm inside knowing that he cares.
he calls to make sure that i'm still alive and that dylan hasn't fallen off the wagon.
"because he's insane! you weren't there, you didn't see the crazed look in his eyes," he would say. to which i would change the subject because i don't want to believe that dylan is someone i should be afraid of.
it's not everyday that i get to make a friend, a genuine friend besides the ones that jackson forces me to meet. dylan is not like anyone i've ever met before. not even isaac. they are so different.
i don't want to let dylan go. not now.
yet a part of me is still afraid. what if he did lie to me? what if he is out to hurt me and alex, and i'm being ignorant? there's always that slight chance, however, that he is telling the truth. am i willing to take that chance?
***
"what do you think about this one?" dylan walks out of the changing room to show me the shirt he's trying on.
"i like it," i say honestly.
"you said about the last three i tried on," he sassily remarks. what can i say? he looks good in almost anything. i must say, he does take his time looking through clothing. i can't complain, however, i took forever trying to pick out my dress.
"because it's the truth," i playfully shove him.
"okay well between this one and this one." he holds up two. i pick the one that matches better with the jeans he picked out. he nods, "that was my choice, too." he puts on his shoes and hangs the other clothing on the rack before patting my shoulder to follow him to the register.
