And he told me he didn’t cheat on me. His friends needed somewhere to stay for the night.
I told him I wanted to talk though. He threatens to throw out my glasses. He pushes me to the wall, banging my head.
I tell him this is it though. And if not today, I’ll just come tomorrow. He tells me to come tomorrow.
I pull him though.
People pass us occasionally as we fight.
And in hopes I suppose that I’ll get out of his life, he says he did cheat on me. “Sure”, he says, “I cheated on you”. I slap him. I have never slapped him so hard.
And when I suppose it calms a bit, he said he didn’t believe that I was looking up A to show my sister. He didn’t believe I was looking her up because I was jealous. He said I was looking her up because I was bullshitting. Because I was trying to find something.
He says he didn’t cheat on me. He’s never cheated on me, this entire time we’ve been together. He never cheated on me.
He wants to go. I tell him to stay. And he pushes me away. And I pull him back. And I say I’m so mad at him. Why is he doing this to me? Why does he keep ruining us?
He says it’s because he doesn’t want to be with me. He doesn’t want to be with me. He doesn’t want to be with me.
And yet, I keep pulling him back, every time he tries to go. And he pushes me. And I push back. And he hits me. And I kept pulling him back.
He texts his friend who’s waiting for him, telling him that I’m being a bitch. He’ll meet up with him and they’ll take a walk.
He tells me not to hit him. But the only thing I’m doing is pulling him to stay and touching his face to look in his eyes and pushing his arm or chest every time he says something that hurts me.
And he pushes me. He punches. He even bites my thumb.
The only thing that hurts me more is the fact that my slap hurt him. And maybe he’s bleeding. But then he tells me to look at my thumb. My thumb is bleeding. Yet, the only thing that concerns me is how my slap hurt him.
And he calls me a bitch with no real friends. Everyone, he says, doesn’t like me because I’m a bitch. He says I’m a bitch. No one likes me, except my sister. And maybe my friend, K. He said everyone in high school thought I was awkward because I was a bitch.
And the meanest thing I can think to say is that I could never figure out why he didn’t have a girlfriend. It was because he was an asshole. He shrugs my remark off.
He says he thought we would be perfect if I didn’t talk so much. I say we’d be perfect if he always told the truth.
I said I was so mad at myself for loving him. That he should feel so lucky that I love him. He didn’t care about my feelings. He didn’t think about me. He had important things to think about. He only thought about me when he saw me. He only had feelings for me when he saw me. When I said I love him, he said he didn’t love me.
And he tries to leave. And I keep pulling him back to stay.
And finally he runs. And I chase after him, leaving my bag behind. And he runs faster around the bend. And I stop. I won’t be able to catch up, his legs are too long. And I left my bag. He sees me stop. And he slows down. And walks.
So I go back, get my bag, and look for him, asking myself what the hell I’m doing, chasing this screwed up boy. When I find him with his friend, he sees me. And he starts running, motioning his friend to run too.
When I start walking, realizing that I’ve lost him, I trip as cars pass by. And I walk through the parking lot and I can’t find him.
I go behind the building, to one of the spots we used to sit together, and I just sit there. And cry. And I take out a notebook and write it down. I look at my phone and decide not to call him. I did not call him. Instead, I sat there and cried for a while.
I try to compose myself as I walk to the bathroom. I wash my face and walk to class. I can’t miss class, even though I’m almost two hours late. I go to class like a fucking champ. Red-faced, but I still showed up even though I was down. My hands were sore from pulling and being squeezed to let go. My thumb was bleeding a bit still. But I showed up still. That must count for something.
His classmates looked for him later in the day. I told them I didn’t know what happened to him. He was with me that morning, but I didn’t know where he went. His friend said his phone kept going to voicemail, three missed calls in a row. I said I knew how it felt. His friend said I didn’t know how it felt.
And after everything, the only thing I could tell him that day when it came down to it was that I love him. I was mad and he was an asshole, but I love him. Stay, because I love you. I love him. That was all I had to say to him that day.
And all he did was push me away.
He texted me a few hours later, asking to talk about what happened. And I couldn’t say anything back.
I know I should leave him alone now. I know inside that I shouldn’t talk to him anymore. My sister thinks so too.
I fought for that boy. I fought for him so hard. I fought for us so hard.
My friend K asked a week ago if I thought I was gonna marry him or something. I didn’t say it directly, but yes. I thought one day we were gonna get married.
And now that’s never going to happen.
I tried, I tried, I tried.
He treated me so horribly and all I could tell him was that I love him.