𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖 • 𝕞.𝕔

chapter 37

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  The two days that followed that last fight were absolutely unbearable. Emotionally and physically heavy. I was always reaching for a hand which I knew wasn't there. So here I stayed, trapping myself in this routine. It had felt like years since I had last seen him, I had tried to go out to feel better, but the freezing cold weather and my big tummy were preventing me from doing much. It was only the 3rd of November, but it felt like whenever I stepped outside, we were already mid-January.

   Beautiful life that it was. That was when I started to realise how much things had evolved, especially for me. Once upon a time, only nine months ago, I was thinking that I was the best, and that I didn't need love to go on. I thought that a nice job, and a steady situation as well as money would make me truly happy, and until I had met Michael, I had felt like I was. But I was empty. And now, as I realised how miserable I was without friends I had taken for granted, without my lover, and without everybody else around me, I knew. I had the money, a nice flat, pretty clothes, and I could write for hours. But what was the point? That was superficial. That comforted me in the thought that life was kind to me, but did not make me feel better in any way.

   I would have rathered living in a poor home, with terrible clothing and have him by my side than being on my own, watching as the hours passed by. I was too damn proud to pick up the phone, and I knew that I was too stubborn for my own good, but I couldn't help it. I didn't want him to think that it was that easy. But I knew myself perfectly, and was aware that if he showed up at my door right now, I would welcome him with open arms, and take him back in the blink of an eye.

   But would he want me back? That was the question. Who would? I was stupid, silly, and selfish. I realised all of the things I had been doing wrong, and I loathed myself for it. I was like that; impulsive, bossy, and stupid. I didn't know if I had put myself or him first, and wished I'd have paid more attention to him. I was the only one to blame in this situation. Even if he had been horrible to me, I had been as well. I was demanding, and silly. Stupid. I dreamed of a perfect relationship, without really knowing that it couldn't exist. It seemed I had only accepted him the times he had been good to me. I had been an horrible person, and I wish he had stayed with me, but now, I started to see it through.

    His wild and crazy nature had been too much for me to handle. I felt as if he was a fire, and that I was the water slowly splattering on top of it, to watch this fire die. As if I had wanted to shape him to my own needs, and that was so, so wrong. I should've loved him as he was, and I had; I realised that the times when we had loved each other the most intensely were at the start, when he still was himself. I felt like I had stolen his identity, and this wasn't right in any way.

   He was fire, and I was water. That was it; he was burning bright, he was full of force and beautiful, blinding everybody by his beauty. And there I was. The water. Calm, but threatening when moving too fast. Plain. I felt now as if I was the thing bringing him down. Our personalities could match, but then, when it exploded, it got terribly messy, and awful.

   I drank my cup of tea staring outside, at the streets. Many people were out, enjoying long walks. What a beautiful sight it was; and I regretted not being able to do that. Damn, maybe Michael was right; it was always about me. I couldn't enjoy the sight of happy people without being bitter that I wasn't the one that was enjoying it all.

   Talking about him, I had no idea where he was. I knew for a fact, and by Amanda, that Luke and Calum were out of the country, only God knew where- and I highly suspected them to have brought Michael with him. I wondered when, and if he'd be back. Knowing him, he probably would take his time, and I understood. That is what I would've done if I was capable of it.

   I took a last glance at the window then sat on my sofa, and picked up a book. This was the last one that brought me actual happiness at this very moment; I got lost in the pages, forgetting about every single detail, omitting my heartbreak. And I liked it that way, I thought. I wanted it to stay like that.

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