More Issues Than Vogue | ✔️

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

I have never hurt anyone in my life before. I was a good girl - if you couldn't tell by my lifeless track record and until recently, lack of social life. I didn't get into any huge arguments with my parents, I've never once had a falling out with Madison. I'd like to blame it on my absolute abhorrance towards conflict. There's a lot of energy and time put into resolving problems and going through tough situations. Not only do you have to deal with your own emotions, but you must think about the other person, at times, even multiple people.

If there's one thing I found issues with, it was dealing with someone else's problems. As I stated earlier, my lack of friends and any social life gave me freedom to be in control of most situations. I only had to worry about taking care of myself, catering to my needs, never having to put my life on pause to help someone else.

When Matt came around, I was completely thrown off. He threw my entire independence mojo out the window. I started doing everything for him because I wasn't sure how to deal with having a boyfriend after only being on my own for so long. I thought the key to being a good girlfriend was making it clear I was the only person he'd ever need - this meant taking care of him every single day. While it was fun in the beginning, romantic even, sacrificing for the sake of love, I realized that in relationships, it's a two way street. If one person cared at a certain amount, it must at least be equal between the pair.

Matt and I were off-balanced. I cared a bit too much, and he didn't care enough. Again, it was because I wasn't used to having someone else to take care of that I went a bit overboard. I may have even come off as clingy (though I would never admit this to his face), but in my defense, I truly believed I became a good girlfriend.

When it came down to end things, well, it turns out, caring too much came and bit me in the ass. I got hurt, as anyone would from a breakup, but because it was my first time, I promised myself I would never make anyone feel the way I did. I would never cause that type of emotional and mental pain to anyone, despite the situation.

And as I woke up, Monday morning, I accepted the fact that I had broken the promise I made to myself.

I hurt Nate.

It's funny that I hurt Nate, and not the other way around.

Well, actually, it's not that funny at all.

After Friday night, I texted and called him numerous times but had gotten no response. I've come to the conclusion he was either dead or hated me. Since I hadn't read anything in the news or gotten panicked calls from work, I could only assume he hated me.

I couldn't blame him at all. I was confused and drowning in my own mixed emotions and to top that with alcohol, I was snowballing into my own mess. I don't know what came over me - I don't hurt people. The last thing in the world that I wanted in this life was to hurt Nate. Nothing I said Friday night came with the intention of causing him pain.

I cried in the shower for two days straight, dealing with the fact that I had to care for someone else's emotions. Honestly? It sucked. I didn't like having to worry about him because it gave him too much power and look where that power has gotten me. I was anxious to see him at work, if he'd even bother to show up.

I thought of what I might possibly say to him. There's a lot.

I want to admit how happy he's made me. I want to confess how much I admire him. I want to thank him for giving me a once in a lifetime experience. But most of all, I want to apologize for doing the complete opposite of what I should have done.

I didn't know which angle I was going to try and attack him with. Would I be playful and treat it as a huge misunderstanding? Or show him the tornado of misery I've been sucked in since he left me at the bar?