He texted me on Wednesday to talk about what happened, hours after it actually took place.
He texted the next day, asking me about economics tutoring. Even though, we know he doesn’t have the class and he just wants to know if I’m still upset.
And then he called me this morning.
He unblocked me on Facebook.
What does he possibly have to say?
That he’s sorry for acting like a son of a bitch the other day. He’s sorry for hitting me with a closed fist.
That he said and did those things because he was mad at me.
That he wants to know if I’m okay. Was my arm okay, how’s my thumb. Did I hurt.
That he loves me. That he didn’t mean what he said yesterday.
That he really fucked up.
That he didn’t want to be with me right now because we need space. Because he needs space, but I was the only one he wanted to be with.
That he didn’t want to be with me.
That he does want to be with me.
That he misses me.
That he wants to be forgiven.
That he’s a goddamn fool.
That he shouldn’t have ever hit me.
What does he want me to say?
That I still went to watch him on Thursday at 9:30 to watch him play basketball through the window, during my five minute break, just like I do every day,
That I love him so much that I would forgive him in a heartbeat.
That I miss him.
That I read his texts, wondering if I should reply.
That I stare off into space, thinking about him.
That my body aches a little less each day since the fight.
That I don’t feel too hungry because I feel sad.
That I cry before bed because I can’t fucking believe this shit.
That I cannot stop thinking about him.
That I still want to be with him.
That I think he’s fucked up.
That he finally got me out of his life.
That my heart’s broken.
That I love him still.
As much as I want to talk to him and see him and hug him,
As much as I want to have him hold me,
As much as I want us to be okay again,
As much as I want our legs to be entangled underneath the sheets of his bed,
I can’t this time.
I don’t think I can leave him alone for so long, but I can’t talk to him now. Because no, we’re not okay. And I don’t know how long it’s gonna be for us to be fine again.
Fuck, I love that boy so fucking much, but I can’t keep allowing him to hurt me every time something goes wrong.
For now though, I have no idea what to even say to him.
“Love breaks my bones and I laugh” ― Charles Bukowski