It's 9:16 P.M..
My friends told me the "truth"and I no longer know what or who to believe in. What hurts the most is that for once I thought that I was worth more than being a girl on the side. I thought that I was important but I'm not.
I wasted three years of my life on an average guy who played me and now all I'm left with is a heart that doesn't beat correctly and a broken soul that holds so much insecurity--so much misery--that I'd be better off if I didn't have one at all. I guess that's okay.
The few times I made him laugh were worth more than this heartache that's eating me from the inside out. It's funny that I'm writing this right now, while I'm still unsure if I really am important to him or if I'm just another girl. I should've trusted him when he said that I was important--that I was special. But I didn't and I still don't. If this is what not trusting feels like, then trusting him and losing that trust must be the equivalent to burning in hell. But in hell all you can feel is pain and all I want is to feel something other the numbness that he's leaving behind as he breaks my heart into thirty thousand pieces.
It's 10:14 P.M. and he just sent me a SnapChat.
I get so excited and my heart is still shattered but I feel something other than that familiar numbness that I feel when he doesn't talk to me at all. But then I open the snap and see a black background with nothing but the word 'STREAK' upon it. The seven letter word that mocks me because he is the most important thing in my life and to him, I'm equal to the other 17 people he sent that photo to.
It's 10:16 P.M. and it hurts.
It hurts to know that I thought wrong--that I thought that I was special--because after so long I believed that I was smart enough to know if a guy actually wanted me. But I'm just as dumb as I was when I met him freshman year and he smiled that gapped tooth smile at me.
It's 13 minutes later and I'm having another thought. Why is it okay for him to wreck me like this? Why am I letting him turn me into an emotional screw-up? What would I be like if I had never met him?
I want to wish that I had never met him but who would I be without him? I'm ugly and scared and broken with him in my life but would I be any better without him in it?
It's 10:34 P.M. and I realize that I've never actually had him.
He has held my heart for three years and I've never been able to call him mine.
It's 10:35 P.M. when I remember that he hasn't said that I was a side chick.
He hasn't said that I was nothing but a game to him. He hasn't left me like I've feared he would.
It's 10:36 P.M. when a false sense of hope overwhelms me.
I become overjoyed with the idea that I was wrong about not being his only girl. I become overjoyed at the thought of being wrong because if I am wrong, that means that he loves me and that he is mine and always will be.
It's 10:38 P.M. and I SnapChat him a picture of me saying 'Goodnight' with a heart beside it.
I watch as the receipt changes from 'delivered' to 'read'. I stare at my phone and wait for him to respond. The clock ticks as seconds become a minute and a minute becomes two.
It's 10:47 P.M. when he does respond.
But it's not the response that I want. It's a picture of his lips--the ones that I so desperately hoped would soon rest on mine-- pressed against someone else's. I replay the snap twelve times to make sure it's not him. It is.
It's 10:53 P.M. when he texts me trying to explain and make things better and apologizing.
He apologizes for me seeing the picture. He promises that the picture wasn't supposed to be sent to me. He doesn't apologize for kissing someone else.
It's 10:59 P.M. when I begin to cry. I don't stop.
I cry myself to sleep with the familiar feeling of numbness scraping its way into my bones to settle there for the rest of forever.
Forever happens to only be three days long. He snapchats me again and tells me that the picture was fake--a bad joke. He tells me I'm the one he wants. After days of crying myself in and out of panic attacks, I let myself fall into his trap; I believe him. I wish i hadn't.
It happened on September 21 at 3:03 P.M..
I had always thought art was pretty, especially in the making. Every time I pass by the art hallway I look down it only to see all the magic that takes place. Two days ago, I found a boy in overalls smiling at a girl's portrait. Yesterday, I walked passed and saw a freshman girl with chalk covered hands running her fingers along a black board, blending different shades of reds and blues. Six hours ago, I saw a girl playing violin, the melody of the piece slicing my heart along the strings. One minute ago, I looked down and saw him--and he was not alone. His big hands were intertwined with smaller hands and his head was leaning down, his lips lowering to touch the lips of another. It looked just like the picture from three days ago.
My love betrayed me in my favorite place and now that is the only art I will ever be able to see.
