He said that it didn’t make any difference, though. He said he was sorry that we had to do this over the phone, but that there was no other way.
I asked him what he meant by “this,” and he said he’d been thinking about it the whole way to Japan, and that he really feels it would be better if he and I just went back to being what we used to be before we started going out—friends.
He said that he thought that we both probably had some growing up to do, and that maybe some time apart—and seeing other people—would do us good.
I said okay. Even though every word he was saying was like a stab wound to my heart.
And then I said good-bye and hung up. Because I was afraid he would hear me sobbing.
And that isn’t how I want him to remember me.
Sunday, September 12, 12:30 p.m., the loft
WHY DID I SAY OKAY?????????????????
Why didn’t I say what I really felt, that I understand the part about having some growing up to do and spending some time apart…
…but not the part about just being friends and seeing other people????
Why didn’t I say what I was thinking, which is that I’d rather DIE than be with anybody but him?????
Why didn’t I tell him the truth?????
And I KNOW it wouldn’t have made any difference, and I just would have come off as exactly what he thinks I am—an immature little girl.
But at least he wouldn’t think I’m okay with this.
Because I am NOT okay with this.
I will NEVER be okay with this.
I don’t think I will ever be okay again.
Monday, September 13, 8 a.m., the loft
Mom came into my room just now to say she understands that I’m grieving about having lost the love of my life.
She said she understands how upsetting it must have been for me to have experienced such a hideous breakup as well as the loss of my best friend in one week.
She said she completely sympathizes with my plight, and appreciates that I feel the need to mourn my loss.
She says she has tried to give me the time and freedom I need in order to grieve.
B
ut she said a whole day in bed is long enough.
Also that she’s sick of seeing me in my Hello Kitty flannel pajamas which, if she wasn’t mistaken, I haven’t changed out of since Saturday. Also that it’s time to get up, get dressed, and go to school.
I had no choice but to tell her the truth:
That I am dying.
Of course I know I’m not really dying.
But why does it feel that way?
I keep hoping it will all just…go away.