Pick Up The Pieces

I'm (Barely) Breathing

Cassiel ~

"How many mistakes does it take before you're bad? Does it matter if you do the wrong thing for the right reason?"

- Christina Lauren

I'm (Barely) Breathing

It's been two weeks.

It feels like it's either been fifty years or fifty seconds. Either way, it's too long. I'm an absolute mess. I keep forgetting to eat, sleeping for way too long. Can't get any work done. I miss him. Sighing, I exhale slowly, rubbing my forehead.

I still don't understand why it was so hard for him to come out. Other people had no bearing on whether or not we were happy. And we were. Adrian and I were so good.

In the hours after the day it all went wrong, I've told myself countless times that I shouldn't be mad at myself. I've rationalized it in every possible way I could think of.

Nothing changed much. He was still hurting. I still outed him.

I've apologized in every conceivable way I can think of. I sent him a long text, left him a voicemail after a few calls he didn't answer, and even sent a few handwritten letters. Forgive me, they pled. I'm sorry. I miss you. But I can't talk to him in person, because he would never forgive me if I brought that up in school and we never see each other outside of school.

Not to mention, I'm too much of a coward to do that.

I don't know how else to convey to him that I'm sorry. I am. I outed him against his will. But I can't fix this if he won't even talk to me.

He avoids me at school, and he transferred out of all of the classes we had together. I barely see him anymore. Sometimes I'll catch a glimpse of him at his locker, or through a crowd of people, and I just look at him, trying to ascertain if he's okay. Are you taking care of yourself? I want to ask him. Are you giving yourself time to breathe?

I already know the answer, because you can see it just by looking at him.

He's tired. Again.

Adrian is a thinker. He thinks very loudly, actually. Sometimes when we were together, I watched him and he's just actively thinking. Even when he was sick and his lungs weren't functioning properly enough for him to put together a coherent sentence, I could almost hear the gears in his head turning and working and moving. He was literally almost asleep on my chest and muttering under his breath about penguins and watermelon which ended in him telling me that I had a dance lesson in an hour.

I didn't even remember my dance lesson. I ended up canceling it after he had fallen asleep, but I have no idea how he had a fever of 102 and still managed to remember my schedule on top of his. Because of penguins and watermelons, no less.

Usually, I had no idea what he was thinking until he decided to tell me. I have no idea where his head is at with everything. I'm going crazy, to tell you the truth. I want him to tell me how he's feeling, why he's hurting, and what I can do to help him.

What am I supposed to do with this? How am I supposed to fix this if he refuses to talk to me?

Sighing, I give up on my homework. I can't concentrate enough to do it anyway. Hanging up my blazer, I pull out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. We're moving into summer, and I'm thrilled to have an excuse to have the AC on all the time.

Adrian didn't like it when it was hot, though. He loved the rain.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Everything seems to remind me of him these days.