Dear Dawson

Dear Dawson-29

January 20.

  Dear Dawson, Connor and I had a fight today- our very first fight, to be more specific. It was terrible.

He strolled right into my house, just like every single day, and walked confidently into my room. I was, as usual, still lying lazily in bed. I didn't see any point of getting up anymore anyways.

He groaned in frustration as soon as he saw me. I felt a pang or hurt in my heart, but I tried to ignore it.

"Please get up, Kindley," he begged, "we can do something fun, whatever you want!" His eyes lit up with an enthusiasm that I quickly despised. It was selfish really that I despised his positive enthusiasm, but that's the truth.

Maybe I despised it because I knew I'd never have it.

Maybe I envied it so much that I wanted no one else to have it if I couldn't.

Nonetheless, I was bitter. Extremely bitter and sad. And, as far as I could tell, nothing would ever get better. Why was I even still here?

"You can't control everything I do, Conner!" I yelled at him angrily, glaring the entire time, "it's my life, not yours!"

Deep down, I knew my point was highly invalid and he was just trying to help me. It showed that he cared, and overall, it really was a nice gesture. I just didn't care at the time. I was so angry and sad that I just needed someone to take it all out on. That is wrong, I know, but I didn't care. I didn't care.

"What? No, baby, I'd never do that! That's not what I-" he began to explain himself, but I interrupted him.

"Yeah, sure," I laughed sarcastically as I rolled my eyes, "God, it won't even matter soon anyways." I was tempted to cry at the thought, but I tried my best to avoid it. I didn't want to start crying in front of him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he furrowed his eyebrows angrily, "are you planning to break up with me or something?"

"I mean, I wasn't-" I began, but he interrupted me before I could even finish.

"You know what? No," he angrily shouted as he stood up, "God! I've been there for you through everything, even when you were being a jerk!" He stressfully combed his hands through his messy hair. It was attractive to me, to be honest, but I ignored it.

"I-" I started, but he interrupted me once again.

"No, don't say anything! I don't need this!" he angrily screamed as he roughly grabbed his leather jacket and jogged quickly down the stairs, slamming the door harshly when he left. I laid there for a minute silently, simply thinking, before one tear escaped.

That one tear set off a path for many other tears. I cried until I felt drained, completely empty, but honestly, that wasn't a completely new feeling for me. I was used to it.

But it hurt so much more this time, and quite frankly, I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because I knew it wasn't his fault, it was mine. It was mine and only mine.

I cried silently until I fell asleep. It was so painful.

Little did he know I had something way worse in plan than breaking up with him.

Love,
Kindley.