Intro

It hasn't even been 24 hours since our break-up and I still feel like I want to die. The first hour I spent pretty much crying, then calming down, then calling him…then he wouldn't answer so I'd cry even harder and it just continued on like that. I can't control myself. I'm being stupid and I know it. This isn't out first break up and it may not even be our last but its just so cruel and heartless to me. Why should someone who has supposedly loved me more than anyone else in the world treat me like I'm a complete stranger?

He picks up the phone after I've texted and left a few sobbing voice mails. I'm a little shocked when he does answer and I freeze up not knowing what quite to say. I just stare at the cell phone in my hand trying to unblock my mind. I want to tell him I love him, and that I need him in my life. I don't want to lose him and I'm sorry and that I'm willing to change…but I'm still frozen.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT!?" he shouts at me. I pull the phone away from my ear and I feel tears welling back into my eyes. Why can't he just talk to me like a person?

"To talk…" I mumble off afraid that he's going to start yelling again.

"NO. I'M NOT FUCKING TALKING TO YOU. DON'T YOU EVER FUCKINIG CALL ME AGAIN. ITS OVER. I'M NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND WE'RE NOT DATING AND I'M NOT YOUR FUCKING FRIEND. GET OVER IT AND GET A LIFE! SERIOUSLY! YOU'RE JUST A FUCKING STRANGER CALLING ME. I DON'T LOVE YOU. LOVE ISN'T REAL AND I FUCKING HATE YOU. YOU GOT THAT. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU."

I hang up the phone shocked and feeling even worse than before. In almost a robotic way I go downstairs to my room and start packing up everything that was ever his into a little plastic bag. Through all our memories and times we spent together it feels like there should be more in my house but there's not. I put away his sweats, boxers, the t-shirt I'm wearing that's his, and the love letters, along with a few little odd gifts he'd given me. I text him telling him that I'm coming over. Give me my shit and I'll give you yours.

When I get to his house I feel like running far far away. To push the gas pedal on my car and just hit the nearest tree and hope that it kills me. I just really don't want to be here and see her for what I think or may know is that last time I will. He doesn't answer his doorbell so I knock on the window like I used to when I used to sneak over in the middle of the night. He pops his head out and points to his back door. I walk back slowly as possible.

He comes out holding a few of my things. Nothing I really care about or want to see again since he touched them last. I awkwardly hand him the bag and without saying a word he just shuts the door and locks it…returning into his room. When I get back to my car I just start crying again, and I don't stop until I'm home…and even when I'm home I can't quit. I just go into my room and after only a half an hour of not talking to him already I text him. I ask him if he really hates me, if I'm nothing to him, why he's doing this to me. I'm so weak.

He never answers. He stays in his room and ignores me and ignores anyone else. I don't know why he's doing this. I don't know why he's so angry at me. The night before this huge fight I was in his room laying with him.

"I'm scared you're going to leave me someday. Like how long are we going to last? I just don't want to get hurt." I say to him as I'm laying on his chest.

"Dork, I'm always going to be here." he says as he pulls me in closer and I start stroking his hair.

"Are you though?" I feel skeptical.

"Okay? Are you calling me a liar?" he says this and I can tell that I offended him.

"No it's not like that." I blurt out hurriedly. "I just don't want to get hurt by this ya know?" I try to lean into him closer but its too late. He pushes me off.

I went home not even a half an hour later. That's when I knew things were going to be bad. I knew it the whole day. I knew it when I woke up the next morning and I knew he was being fake when he told me that he was dropping off my things because they cluttered up his room.

He didn't even have the decency to see me one last time when he came over to drop off my things. I'm anticipating him for a whole hour and when I'm about to go outside and look for him my younger sister comes in with a bag full of clothes and movies of mine. I want to burn them. I want to go run outside and see if I can catch him. I want to give him a hug and tell him I miss him and I want him to tell me that he really isn't mad at me and that my things really were cluttering up his room. But it's a lie, our relationship feels like a lie.

How can something that feels so true and so real…turn out to be such a lie?

My night consisted of mainly me trying to fall asleep, or spent online talking to people I didn't really care about mainly because I was so desperate to get away from my own life. At six p.m. I went into the bathroom and took 7 different sleeping pills and woke up at eleven at night. The house was empty and I was the only one awake unfortunately. I crept down the steps. I made the mistake of going through my e-mails and searching for the words "I love you"

Hundreds of messages from my ex popped up and I just sat there and cried as I read each one. I couldn't help myself. I texted him again.

"Can I come over?" he always answered that question no matter how pissed off at me he was.

"Nope. Go to bed. Doors locked windows locked and I'm sleeping in living room. Bye."

I was about to write back please but I hated how desperate that made me sound. Why did I want him so much? He had hurt me so bad but yet I was still irrevocably in love with him. I wanted to forget him but at the same time I wanted to keep trying to see if we could try dating again.

It's so pathetic.

I need a cigarette…

Rest of chapter are pre-break up not post. It'll come back to post later on.