Stuck with a Punk ✔

No. 84.: Annabelle again

I've lost the count of days. I know it's been over a week, but it hardly seems like I've been living in this nightmare for fourteen days. It feels way longer, the days are static and bleak in my eyes. 

There's a grey blur in the sunrays, all grass leaves have a line or a spot of brown somewhere amidst the green, and the running water in the fountains lost its trinkle and became soundless. 

A simple task such as going out to resupply the groceries or going to work has become a total bother, a real burden. Going to the dance studio, entertain the kids and smile and nod at their parents and my co-workers drains all of my energy, and I stopped jogging altogether, even though I know it'd make me feel better. Instead, I stay in my bed or I cuddle up with a thick blanket on a couch and scroll on my phone with the TV in the background, cheesy Christmas movies being broadcast in the middle of summer. 

I've never watched so many Christmas movies in my entire life, and they only ended up saddening me even further. The man is always noble, love is an indestructible force, and a Christmas miracle brings the two people in love together. The force of love in my life is fragile like glassy figurines, and if the past two years have proven me anything is that miracles like that only exist in movies. The past two years have proven me that point twice already. 

I bet that if I were a character in a book, people would sigh in awe and call my misery a tool for character development. The truth is that none of this is some big trial, just a sad, sad reality. 

Like the previous days, I'm in my bed, postponing getting up for four hours and still going strong. If I could turn it all off, I would, and I would start a day, live my life, stay hopeful that someone might come my way who will make me happy and I him. Instead, I'm here scrolling on Twitter, Instagram and solving quizzes on Buzzfeed. I do anything and everything so I don't have to think about him. 

Somehow no matter how hard I try, he always creeps back into my mind along with his many a smile - devious, playful, dirty, innocent, surprised, cocky, shy... Regular events in my life are narrated by his comments and remarks - the other day when the kids were practising their choreography, I was stricken with pride, and with his voice saying: 'Fifteen circles so far. Oh, look, we're on sixteen already.'

It is easier to hold tears back at work. There I can shift my attention to something else, and ignoring the occasional pop-ups of him is easier. At home, I have to take care of that myself, and so far staying in bed, browsing the social media, reading about all sorts of unimportant gossip has done its job. 

Apparently, I'm an ISFJ-T personality, also knows as the Defender, altruistic, tend to be excessively kind, and I believe in working with enthusiasm and generosity. I've read ten articles or more on ISFJ-T, and watched around six half-an-hour long videos of people making jokes about it. From the data online, Beyonce, Kate Middleton, Dr Watson, Captain America and Pam Beesly share the pain of this personality with me. 

On Instagram, I've discovered about twenty new profiles that post regularly and several times a day. That way I can always have something new to see. One of the profiles is tied to astrology. I generally don't believe in it, Mason, for example, is a Libra. Every article out there says Libras are no good for me, yet somehow, we were in a six-year-long relationship. I'm putting the fact that we broke up aside because after all, we were a happy couple. It's still fun reading about astrology, or finding out what type of a person in a horror movie am I or if I were a witch, what animal would be my familiar according to my sign. 

I come across a post with the title The signs when they find you attractive, and I skim over it till I find that I get flirty and seductive, which is not far from the truth. I don't check out other signs, like Aries for Caitlin, because I know I'll end up checking for everyone who's left an impact on my life. The second post on my newly refreshed feed reads The signs as kisses. I read what it says for Taurus - smiling-against-your-lips kiss, but this time I glance over the other signs as well. For Libra, I get flirty air kisses, and based on Mason, I can't agree with that. Then I check for Scorpios. Hickeys.