I pour a glass of wine. I need to make the thoughts go away, but it only brings more memories back. The two of us laughing, cuddling and fooling around. Wine is no good. I need something stronger; something to throw me off balance; something to make me mad at you. I look for that bottle of whisky we had hidden in the back of the cupboard for emergencies. This is definitely an emergency.
“We need to talk”; that was your opening line. Everything else is a blur. I knew what was to follow, but I wasn’t prepared for it. We were so good together. We were fine. We had just had the experience of the century. Everyone commented on what a cute couple we made; and you were just standing there coldly stating that you don’t really love me, that everything is too much for you to bear and that you would want us to go back to the start and become friends instead. You had the nerve to utter those words out loud. You wanted us to be friends and this occurred to you a year and a hundred shags later.
I can actually visualize myself telling you to fuck off and leave me alone. Really? Friends? How can you go from being in love one day to being friends the other? It makes me wonder if you’ve ever really felt anything. There is no other explanation. It’s either that or your emotions came with a switch that you turn on or off at any given time.
Half a bottle down and I am still not mad at you. I am so, deeply and hopelessly in love with you still. I remember everything. Sadly, I have nothing bad to recall to help me hate you. You were my perfect man, the one who knew all the right things to say to make me feel better and who just blew me away one day out of the blue.
My mind runs back to the start; all those late night talks when there was no one around to talk to, all of the confessions we made to each other just because we knew we were both equally weird; things we wouldn’t dare to share with anyone else. We turned each other’s tears and frustration into laughter and inspiration.
No. Whisky is definitely not working either. I need something even stronger and I curse myself for the limited types of booze in the house. I have to go out and get myself some vodka or something. I frantically search for my car keys, but they are nowhere to be found. Fuck it. I’ll just walk to the store.
Right there; that’s my revenge. You hate people acting recklessly and that’s exactly what I’m doing tonight. I might go back to smoking too. I will hurt you for hurting me. I will let you see me suffer, but you are no longer entitled to come save me because you are the asshole who caused it all.
I walk into the store and I only get the cigarettes. It’s quite obvious that I am drunk already, but happy memories of the two of us keep haunting me. I lit a cigarette and start heading back home. I can’t hold my sobs any longer and each tear burns my cheeks like hell.
I can’t understand why you did it. I asked you why you wanted us to be friends and you said it was because you didn’t want to lose me; it was because we were good for each other. I can’t just be your friend. I can’t just wait until your next relationship comes around. I can’t stand you talking to me about anyone else. I asked you how it would feel for you to see me with another man and you got mad. You can’t handle it either.
You prefer pain to actual feelings of love for another human being. You fear yourself and so you hurt me.
I grab my phone.
Fuck you and I miss you.
Message sent.
Author: Georgia Efstratiou
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