If she only knew (part 3)

“She told me she was earlier today,” said Gloria.

            “She caught us all by surprise,” said Kelly.

            “She said she didn’t know what she wanted,” said Gloria.

            “And that she didn’t want to keep stringing you along,” said Kelly.  

            “She still cares about you, a lot and still wants to be close to you.” Said Gloria.

            “We don’t fully understand either,” said Kelly.

            “None of this is your fault,” said Gloria.   

            I stared up at the black sky where stars were scattered about and twinkling. What I wouldn’t have given to disappear up there, to be anywhere but there. Closing my eyes tight, another wave of tears and sobs washed through me. I felt weak, broken, and open for all to see. I hated crying even though I do it all the time. I hated it even more when I do it in front of people.

            “Please stay with us tonight, Deirdre,” said Gloria. “Please let us help you.”

            “We’ll make you stay,” said Kelly.

            It was a lame attempt to make me laugh, so I just smirked. Reluctantly, I agreed but first I would need my books for class the next day.

            Walking to my dorm, I waited till I was out of their earshot to let it all loose. Running my hands through my short hair, I clenched my teeth as never ending tears continued to stream down my cheeks. A deep ache settled comfortably in my chest, pinching my heart. It spread throughout my body, making my stomach hurt and my head pound. It was one of the worst pains I’ve ever experienced. I needed it to stop. Something else had to hurt.

            You know what you can do.

Trudging across the campus field, I thought of ways to make me forget the pain, to numb it for just a moment. Thinking back, anytime time I felt guilty or depressed, physical harm took it away. The demon in me would tell me I deserved it. That it was a punishment for my sins. It would remind me the pain from the guilt would dull as new pain trickled with fresh blood from an open wound.

You know you remember how to do it.

All I wanted was to feel something other than my shattering heart. Maybe punching a brick wall repetitively would do. I was alone and almost to my resident hall, which was conveniently made up of brick. It would be easy. Screaming and lashing with my fists against the gritty brick would surely bring the pain, the blood, and the relief.

You know it’ll feel nice.

As convincing as it was, I couldn’t do it. It had been months and I wasn’t going to break my streak that night. As angry as I was, I would not make myself that weak. I would not let the demon control me that way again. The quick distraction of a different pain was not worth the scars in the end.

After I had my things I went back to Gloria and Kelly’s dorm. Drained of tears and energy, my eyes found and stared blankly at their door, the door Bell walked out of and didn’t look back at.

She just left you here.

Gloria handed me her sweatshirt. Sliding it over my head and pulling it down my short torso, I remembered her telling me how important it was to her. It was oversized, just the way I liked them. Her scent permeated and enveloped me in never-ending hug from her. I would forever cherish that sweatshirt.

Kelly left to check on Bell. They should worry about her since they were her friends too.

She won’t regret it.

When Kelly came back, she informed us, “She’s asleep.”

A stone hit the pit of my stomach. Disappointment and a wave of sadness hit me hard as the clenching of my chest continued. They pulled me against them, sandwiching me in continuous sympathy. A new bout of sobs rattled through me. I’ve never cried against friends before, never showed anyone my weaknesses, especially in something as trivial as a breakup. For some reason, this felt more than that. I’ve never experienced this much pain even after breaking up with my boyfriend of two years.

She’ll sleep well tonight.

It was apparent that I wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night.

-

Eyes glazed over, staring into space, and remaining oblivious to everything and everyone on campus. Ignoring the movements, smells, and noises around me, focusing on anything but people’s curious eyes. My mind and soul are always somewhere else. Not in class, or on campus, or at dinner, not even at rowing practice with me. My head is filled with memories while my heart is filled with rejection and shame.

The only evidence that proved I was still alive was the robotic movement that my body made. I was on autopilot, just a shell and a continuous void of emotion. Determined to not let myself crack, I remained unfeeling. Knowing that I needed to stay strong since there was nothing left in me to absorb the ache. Nothing to decrease the intensifying pain in my heart. 

There is one way.

Never once in my entire life have I thought hurting anyone physically, mentally, or verbally was righteous. That doesn’t mean I haven’t done my fair share of these. I’m aware that I’m not perfect and I know I make mistakes. It’s the ability to admit our mistakes and do everything or anything possible to turn them around. As mentioned before, I despise leaving things on a bad note or having unresolved issues with people. I’ve always wanted good relationships with everyone I met or stayed in contact with, it be friends or family. Even after relationships, I believed if they didn’t work out, that didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends. I guess I never understood how difficult and utterly heart shattering that concept could be…

            Literally, a walking aftermath of a war zone, my body was desolate, isolated, and in ruin. My thoughts were blurry and muddled. Everyday, I kept my eyes averted and hidden behind the hair that fell across my face. Continually trudging through my daily routine, hunched over and gazing down at the ground like it was the most interesting thing in the world. However, it remained essential to keep up appearances on the outside so on first glance, no one would be able to tell the kind of hell I was experiencing on the inside. 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get her out of my head. No amount of running, or exercising, or angry music could flush her out. She was embedded in my thoughts, feelings, and actions. Screaming at the top of my lungs, kicking till my legs felt like putty, and hitting objects till my knuckles broke sounded ever so inviting.

You know you’d feel better.

We shared the same friends. It forced me to grace her presence every homework and studying night, every shopping excursion, and every movie night. She sits innocently in the room, laughing along with our friends and having casual conversation. Before she broke my heart, I would laugh along with them but if I did then it would only clear her guilty conscience.

Mustn’t care that you’re still hurting.

If the group would go out to town for dinner, I would ensure to put as much space as I could between us. If she spoke to me, I wouldn’t meet her gaze knowing that if I did, I would get lost in those deep blue eyes. Keeping my responses short and seeking one of my friends, I’d distance myself. Staying attached to a friend’s hip just so I wouldn’t breakdown in front of her. They were my rocks.

After some time, I knew she was aware of my behavior. Sneaking peeks at her, she would be sitting with a look of sadness and disappointment. Brushing it off I would laugh and talk to my friends, trying to avert the pain with humor. It was the only way I could stay strong, the only way to keep the ache away. She was oblivious and blind to my feelings. What she didn’t realize was that I was constantly battling the pain that resigned in my mind, heart, and soul. It was constant and there was no way to escape it. No matter where I was, it be sitting in class trying to listen to the professor or walking around campus, she would worm her way into my head. She was a parasite and there was no way of getting her out.