hard love ✰ l.h. | ON HOLD

four.

Trees danced through the shadow of my window projected onto my wall. The shapes appeared human like, resembling a man's face that was going forward and backwards. I studied the figure longer, admiring the stunning contrast of the orange light peering behind the leaves and the dark figures.

The shadow man reminded me of Michael. I tried not to think of him, but at hours of the night like this it was hard. Michael was my first love, my first real relationship, my first everything. He was my everything. Or he used to be.

I missed him. I was unsure if it was the mood the rain and shadows were setting or if my heart genuinely ached for him.

I shifted uncomfortably in my bed, trying to escape the feeling of Michael wrapping his arms around me like he used to. It felt like a ghost was in here trying to mimic him at the expense of my emotions.

Michael and I broke up almost a year ago. It'll be 11 months in a few weeks. I still cared so much about him. I wondered what he was up to time to time, but I only knew as much as he posted on social media. It wasn't much. I felt comfort in knowing he wasn't dating anyone yet. I don't think still have true genuine love for him anymore, but I still cared and still missed him of course. Time forced us to move on.

We broke up from both of us dealing with difficult circumstances in our life. School, work, family life, taking care of ourselves. It was hard. We were young, so young, and we shouldn't force each other to be unhappy because we didn't know how to deal with our emotions and life situations. All we did by the end was argue, and cry, and wish we could change the other person and get back to how we used to be at the beginning of our two and a half year long relationship.

I stared at my closet door, my thoughts being swarmed by Michael. His soft, pale skin that had a tattoo here and there. I touched my face in remembrance of his hair tickling my cheeks as he'd cuddle up to me in this same bed. Flashbacks flooded in of the nights we'd spend at home just laying in bed and watching movies.

I sat up, looking around at the hills my sheets made. It almost looked like someone else legs were curled around mine. I leaned over to my bed side table and turned on my lamp. The dim yellow light brightened up my room slightly. I had a couples piles of clothes in one corner I desperately needed to put away and in the other corner was my bulletin board.

I got out of bed and wrapped my arms around my cold body. I stood in front of my board and stared at the contents. Concert tickets, a photo of me and my mom, letters from Michael, another photo of me and Michael at a music festival kissing.

I felt on fire. I ripped the photos and letters down, angrily shoving them into my top drawer in my dresser. I didn't even realize I was crying until I saw a water droplet smudging the ink on the college ruled paper. I looked up and into the mirror on my dresser. A few tears made their way down my cheek and fell from my chin.

It made you feel vulnerable and uncomfortable watching yourself cry.

-

Ania and I were sitting outside of our favorite restaurant. It was Saturday morning, she had a big night planned ahead, and me, well, I had this mimosa in my hand. It was a hole in the wall brick building with a stunning patio outside. Globe lights strung around the vintage metal fence framing that was enclosing the patio seats.

Our food was placed in front of us, stopping our conversation about Ania and her date. We thanked the waiter and looked back at each other.

"So," Ania unfolded her red and white checkered napkin and laid it smoothly on her lap. "You were up last night."

I nodded, thinking about the remnants of Michael and I's relationship that I slammed into a small drawer. I shoved a fork full of food in my mouth to avoid talking.