Story #22

“I want you to feel something. I want you to feel all the pain that I’ve gone through plus more. I want you to feel my tortured heart when I found out that you cheated on me…several times. I want you to feel every time a piece of me was lost because I tried to forgive you and mold myself into the woman that I thought you wanted. I want you to cry just as much as I did the countless nights that I couldn’t reach you because your phone died or the ringer was on silence for 15 goddamn hours. I want you to second guess yourself as much as I have and to conclude that you’ll never be good enough, just as I did. Most of all, I want you to die; although, not literally because I still need you to feel everything that I felt, cry like I cried, and feel just as crazy as I did. And even after all of that, I want you to know what it’s like to have someone you love treat you like shit, like you’re absolutely nothing and will never be anything more than a speck of dust in their eyes. I hate that I feel like I’ll never be the same again. I hate that I still love you.”

The men and women in the room stared at me with sympathetic eyes, and I felt pathetic. A few of them nodded as I spoke while others teared up as soon as I finished. The last few words that I said stumbled out of my mouth as I began to feel myself lose control over my emotions. I didn’t know who I was anymore and I didn’t like who I had become. I sat back down in my seat as everyone in the crowd snapped. The open mic night continued for another half hour. I listened to other people pour out their soul, but none sounded relative to what I felt.

After the spoken word was over, I grabbed my things and walked out the building. A few people patted me on my back, saying that I did a good job. One woman made a muscle and said, “Stay strong, sista.” I halfway smiled at her and continued to walk to my car. Once inside I turned on the ringer to my cell and saw that Xavier had text me.

I won’t be able to make it tonight. Something came up, but I’ll come over tomorrow. I promise. Love you.

Another lie. I swallowed the overwhelming emotion to cry and turned on my car. I swear, if I called and he answered then I would forgive him all over again, even though I know he’s up to no good. I connected my phone to bluetooth and called. After two rings, it went to voicemail. Call rejected. I hung up without leaving a message and tried to call again. After two rings, he answered.

“Hey, Laura. Do you mind if I call you back?” He sounded out of breath.

“What’s so important that you have to call me back?” I thought I heard a girl in the background say ‘who is that’. Xavier cleared his throat to try and cover it. Hot tears ran down my cheeks. “Who is that, X?”

Xavier sighed. “Nobody, I promise. I’m at my mom’s house. She needed help–”

“At almost 10 o’clock at night? Seriously, that’s the best you could come up with?”

Silence. A ‘click’ sounded from the other end and my phone read “CALL ENDED.” I couldn’t swallow it any longer. As if I was in some cliche movie, rain started to pour. I cried for a good ten minutes before I left the venue. The rain shielded anyone’s view inside my car. I could say what I needed to say in a room full of strangers, but as soon as I’m talking to him, I become weak again. You would think that I was a masochist by the way I let him hurt me. I drove home without the radio on.

When I pulled up, there he was, like clockwork. A single rose in hand and a insincere apology ready to go. I sighed, turned off my car, and slowly walked up to him. It didn’t matter what he would say because we both knew that I would forgive him.

I love this one. I’ve felt this before, to a degree. Sorry for using your name, Xavier! After awhile the only names I can think of belong to people I know or once knew. I promise I’m not sad. Sometimes old feelings infiltrate your head and give you inspiration. I regret nothing of my past because I love the woman that I have become and I’m thankful for the people in my life now.


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