Cliché (Andy Biersack)

Once Every Few Lifetimes

"Happy birthday, hon!" Mom said over the phone.

"Thanks, mom," I said.

"Did you solve that work emergency?" She asked.

"I'm still working on it," I said.

"Dad wants to talk to you," she told me.

"Happy birthday, Sophie!"

"Thank you, dad. How's Miami Beach?" I asked him.

"What are you asking that for? You were here three days ago," he chuckled.

"Right, sorry. Hey, I gotta go now. My boss is calling me. Say bye to mom for me, will you?" I asked and hung up.

I've been laying in bed for the past two and a half days. I only got up to go to the toilet and to eat something, even though my appetite was at an all time low. This felt like my breakup with Michael all over again.

I felt so unbelievably empty. There was a black hole inside me, sucking up everything I had. For some reason, this was the first time in my life I turned to rom-coms. They weren't really helping my situation. All they resulted in was a desperate need to contact Andy. And it took all my willpower not to do it. He was a huge part of the problem. I didn't want anything to do with him. I needed him out of my life. It was only a matter of time before he realized what a disappointment I was. He'd realize who Sophie really is, and then he'd never want to see me again. I'd rather be the one who runs away than the person who is left behind. I cannot accept how much he's started to mean to me. If I do, I'll become selfish. I'll never want him out of my life, and I cannot trust him to stay. There is no guarantee that he'll want to keep being my friend when he sees all the parts of me I've kept hidden. Not even Sam knows everything. But with him... There's a desperate need inside me, to reveal every part of myself. I can't do that. Not to myself and not to him. If only it were as easy to outrun myself, as it is to run away from other people.

"You really gotta stop feeling sorry for yourself, Sophie," I said as I looked at myself in the mirror.

I went back to my bed, and pressed play on 10 Things I Hate About You. I realized I hit rock bottom when I started crying toward the end of the movie. By the time the ending credits started rolling, my pillow was soaked with tears, and I had snot everywhere.

"That's it, you're done," I scolded myself. I turned off my laptop and grabbed a pair of paint-stained jeans and an oversized shirt. I showered for the first time since getting back. I washed my hair, too. I let it air dry and I got dressed. I brushed my teeth and tried my hardest not to look at myself in the mirror. I knew that if I saw how puffy my eyes were, and the dark bags under them, I'd probably start crying again.

The thing about never crying is, that once the waterworks start, it's close to impossible to shut them off.

I locked the door and walked across the street to my studio. I put some music on and grabbed a bunch of paints. I let the music overflow me, pushing back all the emotions of the past few days. I started putting random blotches of paint on my canvas. A little bit of green, a little bit of red, a grey line here, a black one there. I was completely focused on my work. My phone rang a bunch of times, but I ignored it. I wasn't in the right headspace to talk to anyone. All I needed was there, in front of me.

"So, this is what work emergencies look like nowadays, huh?"

I sharply inhaled. I was afraid to turn around. I probably imagined it, right? There was no way in hell that he was actually there, standing behind me, right?

"Isn't ignoring my texts and calls enough? Now, you're ignoring me in person, as well?" He asked. I could hear something that sounded like hurt in his voice.