hope | t.h.

t w e n t y - s i x

I haven't had this feeling in so long. That urge to isolate myself from every single person in my life, whether they had good intentions or not. I wanted to quit this makeup gig just to leave Prague and go back to London where I'd indulge myself in blankets and pillows, not leaving the house until I ran out of food.

I wanted to shun everyone out because word would get out about this and I was too afraid to face everyone. I wanted to so badly buy a ticket for the next flight back to London without even heading into that hotel room where Z would be, wide eyed, wanting to know every detail about this so called date.

Though, I needed my things and I knew someone would come after me even if my stubborn mind built a wall, showing my cold side to that person.

I didn't follow the thoughts that filled most of my brain. I opened the door to the hotel room only to see Zendaya on the bed, living her best life, seeming ecstatic to know everything about the signs of affection Harrison and I showed on the date. Meanwhile, I was suffering, being a prisoner to my decisions.

"You could have knocked and I would've opened it." Z said, seeing me walk through the door.

Tears were about to stream down my face like a rainstorm. I tried my best not to make eye contact with Zendaya and walked into the washroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. I slid down to the bottom of the door and a tear finally slipped down my cheek after threatening to fall. Slow tears slowly turned into me sobbing into my hands.

You absolute idiot. You ruined your chances with the only guy who was willing to go out with you. It's all over now. He's more heartbroken than you. Look what you've done, Alison Hope Birks. You're a monster. A heartbreaker. You don't deserve anything. You'll only make the same mistake again. He deserves so much better than you.

I tried crying softly but failed and turned the shower on, pretending that I was taking a shower. Instead, I sat there on the washroom floor, crying like it was my natural state. At that moment, I didn't care about creasing my dress. I didn't care how bad my face looked from all the mascara running down my face. I didn't care if I stained my hands with black from the mascara either. I cried mascara tears in the washroom like today was my last day to live. Actually, that statement isn't true for me at all. What's true for me is that I cried like I had too many days to live this horrid life of mine on this Earth, living with my terrible decisions.

I didn't care about how long the shower was running for. I didn't care about anyone on the face of this planet. I didn't care about myself either to be honest. All I could feel was the tears touching my skin and my broken heart. My heart is officially a complicated puzzle that nobody could ever solve and put back together. I'm breakable but not fixable.

Thankfully, I had ear buds and my phone in my purse. I plugged my ear buds in and went through my music library until I found the best album and song, Hurt You from My Dear Melancholy, by The Weeknd, of course. Heartbreak or sadness means My Dear Melancholy, or RED.