The Unexpected

Purge

Listening to his words over and over again made me sink in the chair even more. His words kept repeating in my mind, making my heart race its beat. There was, however, something I could still not understand, something that did not make sense to me yet: the interviewer mentioned pictures and videos, in plural. As far as I knew, there was only one picture of us, and nothing more.

Doubt started consuming me. Was it possible there were more things about us on the internet?

I started hyperventilating. That could not be possible, but my racing thoughts could not be stopped anymore. I decided to look for Ben and myself on the internet, and I found many websites reporting the time when he and I broke up. Someone followed us that day and recorded everything. I felt humiliated. Our private lives displayed to the world.

The paparazzi was across the street, behind a tree. He was so near us, invading such a private moment. I could not believe someone was capable of recording the saddest moment of our lives and sold it to the highest bidder as if we were a spectacle willing to be shown.

There were also more websites, blogs, and online magazines, all speculating the reasons we broke up: that I was not good enough, not pretty enough, not intelligent enough, and not enough of a woman for him. Others said that I allegedly cheated on him, and he found it out in the worst possible way. Many even said they were glad he left me, as he deserved someone better than me.

They started all this, and now they wondered why things ended, when they were the ones to blame all along the way.

I could not take that anymore. I started screaming at the top of my lungs. My heart was pounding incredibly fast and hard, and I felt I could not control myself anymore. All my thoughts those last few weeks were revolving and revolting around Ben, and the last moment we were together. I felt I had no life anymore. I was living and reliving a past moment that I could not change at all, and that had become my new life. Frustration and pain hit the highest in my brain and my heart, and I knew I had to do something, or I would end up going mad, all the way to the end.

I closed all the sites I saw and read, and threw the phone on the ground. That action broke its screen, but I did not care anymore. I then took a couple of garbage bags out of the kitchen and dragged them to the closet, where I furiously opened them and took the sweater and the photo I had of Ben and me, and with anger and tears, I tossed them in one of the bags. But that was not enough for me, as I knew I had to do more to feel better. So, I took the blue dress, the flats and the heels I wore on my first date with Ben, along with the purse, and did the same thing with them. After that, I tossed all the clothes I ever wore with him, as I did not want any trace of him in my life, even if it was something incredibly small to remember.

Along with that, I threw away the CDs of the music that I listened with Ben or that even reminded me of him, as well as the books, the magazines, and everything else that could have any trace of him. They turned out to be so many things, so many objects that were all attached to so many memories, now thrown into black bags, dark as my troubled mind. I took more bags and threw in the pillows, the blankets, and the bedsheets we shared from the times we made love, and where we endlessly talked about our lives and our possible futures... As if there was one at all.

I saw my apartment half empty and yet, full of memories. I indubitably had to get out of there. I took a backpack and tossed my remaining clothes. They were few, but I still needed them. I put a couple of shoes and other things as well. I then took a small crossed bag and tossed my documents, cash, cards, and even my passport, just in case.

There was still one more thing to do: I took my now broken phone and started deleting all the pictures Ben sent me, all the ones we had together, and all the ones I took of him: the ones were he looked happy, relaxed, caring, and in love with me. Within seconds, I had no images of him anymore. I also deleted all the text messages and the conversations I once treasured. Once I finished, I looked at his phone number. That would be the last time I would see it, as well as the last chance for him to ever contact me.

What am I thinking?! If he wanted to say something, he would have already done it!!!

I shook my head and pressed the delete button... He was all gone from my phone, and now I had to get it out of my mind and my heart.

I took a deep breath, and texted Diane: -Please take care of my apartment. I'll be gone for a while. There are some trash bags. Get rid of them as soon as you can. I'll leave you my key under the entrance rug.-

Once I sent the message, I turned off the phone, took the SIM and SD cards out, crushed them, and threw them away with my phone.

I took my bag and backpack and put them on myself, and then walked to the door and opened it.

I turned around to see my apartment: it was a mess, just like my life.

I took a deep breath and finally decided to say goodbye to my old self.