Until We Meet Again

29. totally fine

I take the very brave moment to remind myself that alcohol is worthless and that it won't make Delilah go away. I'm an adult, I can deal with this.

I just don't understand why she would want to talk to me now. Is she obsessed with hurting me? Does she just want to rub it in my face that she'll always have the money to run away when she wants? What does she want from me?

Because it clearly isn't my love, something I learned last month. It still replays in my head how she left me. How she left us.

She gave up so easily, but I guess I did too. But, honestly, she can say she tried to fix it, but she never did. I was picking up the pieces and she was moving on. Good for her, I guess.

At least I tried. I really did. Or I tried to try.

It wasn't enough for her. Nothing ever was. Delilah can only ever see the 14 year old version of me and nothing else. How did she never hear me yelling at her to listen? Why didn't she hear me crying and begging for her to come back?

I gave her too much credit for being so perfect in my dreams. I created an idea of her in my mind from the last 4 years, and it obviously isn't her responsibility to live up to it. I just thought she wouldn't be so far off from it.

This all hurts more because I always thought that I knew her, but it turns out that I never did. You can't really ever know anyone for sure though.

Ten minutes pass, and Delilah texts me again, "please?"

Like 'please' can erase everything. I wish it could. It would be so damn delightful and easy if she could just heal our wounds with that word.

Am I foolish enough to risk it all again for a girl I barely know?

It's not that simple though. I once knew her. She was once everything to me.

I tell her, "I'll be there soon."

I won't give her an exact time. I'll make her wait like she made me wait for four years.

I can't help but laugh at myself.

What a pathetic attempt to get even like they're comparable events. Yet, I realize that they might be. If Delilah wants to talk to me, it might be because she wants me back.

And if I make her wait longer, it's like I'm returning to her that unbearable feeling of never knowing anything about a proposed lover in a neatly wrapped gift. The sender is my 14 year old self that she thinks is still me.

And my need to be petty is taking over.

I take my time in getting ready, reminding myself with each gentle brush stroke on my face that Delilah only really cares about herself and that I need to stay strong. Even though I am so desperate to hold her again, I can't just give in. Especially not right away.

I have been giving so much for the last few years, why can't she just do something in return?

I'll never be able to replace those years of just wondering about her existence and thinking about what could have been between us. What we had between us was destructive, and the years were spent wastefully. She'll never understand. She never cared.

She never once thought about me.

I'm trying to just resist the urge to go to some party on campus, something that's a constant at this school, just so I can forget. Liquid courage is all I want in these moments, but I know now that I can conveniently forget about unwanted details without it.

I can handle this myself.

I hope that Delilah still wants me. I hope that she still needs me. It'll make me feel better, maybe it'll bring back my ego. Or, maybe it'll give me the peace that I'm not the only one drowning in these emotions that I can't make sense of.

I literally slept with my ex. Shouldn't I have forgotten about Delilah? And, if Augustine weren't such a terrible person, I wish I could find myself obsessed with her instead of Delilah. One ex instead of the other.

Once I'm done getting ready, I take a final look at myself in the mirror and say to myself, "even if Delilah doesn't want me anymore, someone else will."

I don't want that to be true though, which is obviously something I don't say out loud. I don't want anyone else, even though I've spent the last month convincing myself otherwise.

Delilah is the only person I've ever been able to love. What am I without that? Without the extreme strength of bubbling feelings that only grow with time and never dim. They outlast years and lives, yet I'm scared that they'll be laid to rest tonight.

But, I can't focus on the negatives of that. Even if she doesn't want me back, it's fine.

Totally fine.

I grab my black leather shoulder bag from my bed, and I lightly trace the edges of the pink sheets that Delilah once laid on. The ones that we would cuddle on, the ones that would be the place for us to just talk. Pathetic.

I say to myself again, "even if Delilah doesn't want me anymore, someone else will."

And my true thoughts will just have to shut up for now. If I even dare listen to a single one, I'll fall apart right now.

I close the door behind me, and I walk slow as I make my way to that familiar diner we once met each other at.

Everything is completely, extremely, and totally fine.