"And sometimes...things just happen."
Looking at the status makes me feel weak. I wanted to say something...anything to let the world know that I'm hurting. Everything sucks and my world is different. That is all I can manage— a poor attempt at a cryptic message.
Seven likes aren't bad though.
#
She's gone.
A quick awkward talk full of tears, laughs, and more tears ended with her breaking up with me. The door slams shut, and I sander to my room, one slow step at a time. Each foot fall fills me with dread, an emotion I was trying to brace for. With each step my face winces, each a little bit harder as I try to understand if this really happened, but no one is here to confirm. Just me, in my apartment— alone.
In my room, I wipe my face of tears, snot, and sweat, but my glasses get in my way. I try to move them, but they get caught in my hair, pulling at the root. I still try to wipe the wetness away, but the glasses press hard against my face, poking my swollen eyes so much, I throw them off.
They slam into my nightstand. The left lens pops out the frame.
I feel stupid. I feel...crippled. I feel something else, but it doesn't make sense, not that everything right now fits any logical description, but it bubbles inside of me. It weakens my legs, and I drop to the floor. My eyes burn and I can't see. Darkness hides my shame as I crouch next to my queen- sized bed, groveling on the floor. The unknown grows, bubbling more and more until it bursts.
I bellow by my bed. My rage that ravages me.
I pound the floor, forcing out the pain, screaming to sullen the hurt, but nothing works. I wade in my tears, without any solace of where my life is going. I want to be back in NJ. I want to be with my friends. I want to be anywhere but here, on the carpet in my empty bedroom. The one that she should be in.
I look for something to make me feel better. I look for books, distractions, communication, but I settle for my phone.
I settle for Facebook.
#
The sun singes my shoulders, the only bit of me that truly burns. Everything else feels so nice, the water, the laughing, the sense of society that I belong to in this moment- the belief that I belong is what brings all this together. Her smile helps too.
She looks over after splashing her friend. We hang at her friend's apartment, playing in the pool of the complex. It's new and nice and looks like people are starting to fill out the apartments throughout. Her friend is happy here as far I can tell, and I can't imagine an invite like this happening if she wasn't. The apartment is nice— I can imagine us living in a similar place, after a bit obviously...or maybe right away. I lose my sense of time over these few months, feeling like it has been much longer.
She splashes me, bringing me back. The cool water chills us on the hot summer day. I splash back and we play more games. I can't imagine what it's like to leave this pool, leave this day.
#
"You okay, dawg?"
I explain to that I will be, but just not right now. Everything comes up, sentence after sentence with little jokes in between, the kind that are tailored to the friend you're venting to. The stories change as you share with each different friend, colleague, or family member. I can imagine is the way a stand up comic tells two different jokes: the one in Missouri, and the one is Miami.
"You'll be fine."
And I will be, but it doesn't feel true. That's the reality of a break-up, emotions unleashed, comparing being single to that of a car accident, a loved one dying, or getting fired from a job. It doesn't matter how ridiculous I sound; I understand what's going on. I'm clean and concise in my explanation when he asked me how it went down.
