I knew everything about how he was feeling when I told him I had been seeing a different guy. At first, he cried. Then he got really flustered. Never enough to act out, like punch a wall, but the type of anger, you want to cry because you feel the sadness you caused. And then, he spoke.
He looked me dead in the eye and cried, “Go to hell, Jessie.”
In that moment I knew I broke the only heart I never wanted to break. The only heart I knew loved my heart completely. Part of me wanted going to say, “See you there bud!” the other half wanted to say, “I'm so sorry, it just happened.”
I guess I knew eventually I would ruin this relationship one way or another. It’s going to hurt my soul, the type of hurt when you burn your tongue on something hot. The anticipation of not wanting to wait, was relevant. It's going to take time to heal, but I guess I knew this. My heart has been shattered from multiple people, not just lovers. I looked him dead in the eye, as long as I could and lied, “Trust me, you're going to find someone. Someone who you’ll teach to trace your back when they wake up in the middle of the night like I did. Someone who you’ll teach that your car sometimes takes a while to get working and that's okay. Someone who you'll teach to make you grilled cheese because you burn it.”
Shaking with hesitation, “You'll find someone like me. Someone who will love you and accept all your quirks. Someone who will talk to you when you two are fighting, instead of shutting you out. Someone who will love the way you laugh in different ways for different reasons. They’ll know all these reasons, but I, I will soon forget everything about you. And, you have to be okay with this.”
I didn't know if losing the one I loved whole-heartedly was worth it. We had so many plans. I remember one instance when we talked about seeing each other when I was at college. He promised, “I can see you every month for a weekend, you'll be home during breaks. Trust me, we’ll be okay.”
But that was just it, those promises fell through.
It wasn't him I was seeing every few weekends, it was the bottle of Vodka underneath my bed. I'd lay on my small mattress, missing my queen bed and stare at the empty walls. My roommate would be gone at some party and I’d be alone. Late at night I’d hear her stumble into our room, wishing it was him like it used to be. It wasn't him I was seeing, it was the water dripping from my face as I cried on the shower floor. Nothing was like it used to be, and he wasn't here anymore. He wasn't coming to see me anymore, it was his friends he was going out with instead. He wasn't seeing me anymore, he was seeing his favorite sports team play on the TV with his dad.
