1

3 0 0
                                    

I really thought we could make it.

I really really wanted us to make it.

I sit in my living room, staring at the phone in my hands. My chest is hot and so are the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes.

My cat rubs his face along my legs, oblivious to the fact that my world has caved in and I am being berated with debris.

The clock says 6:13am.

I want to scream, I want to sob, I want to fall apart completely and become a mound of rubble but I have to open the theater today.

I stand and hobble to the bathroom.

I turn the cold nozzle in the shower and proceed to sit down.

I sit and silently scream, tears pouring down my face, as not to wake my parents or neighbors this early.

The light of my life has just been extinguished and I have to pop popcorn at 10am.

I hear my alarm going off and then from there and getting to the theater is a blur.

I pop the popcorn, I do the theater checks, soft sobs escaping my mouth.

I smile and laugh with my staff.

They don't know.

I sit at box, breathing, trying to keep myself together.

C walks in and I don't greet him.

He notices but doesn't press.

I go to leave and run into D.

D notices. He does press.

D knows.

Somehow, someone knowing makes it too real.

I try to keep it in but tears escape.

D hugs me.

He hates hugs.

But he hugs me anyway.

I hurry to my car.

I scream in my car, driving home with tears blinding me.

I sob in my car then try to compose myself.

I walk inside and my mom is by the door already.

What's wrong?

I say work was rough and she believes it.

She didn't know.

She doesn't want to know.

I go to my room.

I text F.

I cave and text C too.

F is busy but C answers.

I try to break the news lightly.

You aren't the only single manager anymore, haha.

C is typing.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

Me too.

I stare at the ceiling.

I finally saw them after 5 years of being away.

In the span of a few minutes, I lost them.

I burned the bridge myself.

I burned the bridge and now there's ash smudged at the tip of my fingers where I held the match.

Maybe if I wash the ash off my hands, I can fix it.

Do I want to fix it?

Do I want to settle?

Do I excuse the hurt?

Did I make a mistake?

I get up and throw my phone down and rush to the pool.

I jump in and once I'm at the bottom, I scream.

I come back up for air and go back down to drown out my agony.

I float for what feels like hours and walk home.

Did you have a good swim, Shelbs?

Yeah mom.

The days start to warp together.

I can't tell when time has passed, everything is moving yet still.

I wake up in the mornings and throw up.

I spend the days trying to keep my mind busy, talking and forcing laughs and smiles.

I feel guilty for trying to keep the conversations going for as long as I can.

They're tired.

They have lives.

They are sick of hearing about it.

They are sick of me too.

At the end of the night, everyone leaves.

The silence is deafening.

I can't catch my breath.

My mistakes materialize in my room, dancing with the shadows.

Whenever I feel alone, I would just send a message.

I would send an invite to a game.

I would hit Facetime.

I would Snap.

I can't do that anymore.

My hands go numb as I pick up my phone.

I can't do that anymore.

I throw up again.

How did this happen?

All these years.

How did this happen?

Was I in the wrong?

I should just learn that I do not deserve love.

I should have just accepted my fate.

I should have taken the abuse.

I would have been wounded but I would not have been lonely.

I would at least have them sometimes.

The sun comes up.

I look at my phone.

The clock says 6:13am.

I want to scream, I want to sob, I want to fall apart completely and become a mound of rubble but I have to open the theater today.

I stand and hobble to the bathroom.

I turn the cold nozzle in the shower and proceed to sit down.

I sit and silently scream, tears pouring down my face, as not to wake my parents or neighbors this early.

The light of my life has just been extinguished and I have to pop popcorn at 10am.

BreakingDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora