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Illustration by @luciesalgado
I sit in the dark with the bright light from my phone screen dimming my eyes.
Should I text him, or should I not?
I battled with my own thoughts for an hour. The neglected cup of coffee was cold by now. I typed out a text, deleted it, retyped again, deleted again.
I took a sip of the cold, black coffee. It had been six months since we last talked. It had to end. Things had changed. He had changed. I had changed. This wasn't what we had planned on.
We were inseparable, our love was strong and we had promised to stick together no matter what turn the situations took. But do things always happen as we want them to? No.
We separated. We parted ways. We moved on towards something better. And today at 3 a.m., do I miss him? Yes.
I wanted to ask him if he was fine, if he was happy, if he had moved on, and if he missed me too, at 3 a.m?
But I fear.
Fear what?
I feared being vulnerable to him again, of being weak to his sugar-coated words, of letting him break my walls again, of trusting his pretense, of loving him. I feared him.
Why did I let him go? Were my inner demons stronger than my feelings, because I anticipated him, because my feelings had faded for him? No. Because he wanted to leave.
I remembered arguing with him at the pettiest thing. I remembered talking to him on endless topics. I remembered walking by him till our legs hurt, and laughing till our tummies ached. I remembered everything. This 3 am made memories even more vivid.
I take a sip of the coffee, as a text pops up. Stranger?
We start with a normal "Hi. Can we talk?" and end with confessing secrets, sharing problems and driving away the loneliness of the 3 am.
As the night ends and the dawn breaks, the turmoil inside me calms down. I try to fall asleep. The typed text remained unsent, saved in the draft with innumerable others.
When the daylight came, he wasn't there. Only the taste of his whiskey breath remained.
3512943 Launches
Part of the Confessions collection
Updated on September 13, 2017
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