Dear Heart, I Hate You

“No.”

“Really? You don’t? I figured you would.”

“I probably should wish that, but I don’t.” I didn’t believe the words as I said them. I didn’t wish that. And I didn’t think I should either.

“But he hurt you. If you’d never met him, you wouldn’t be going through this right now.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “I know, but it’s more than that. Yes, I’m hurting right now. And yes, I don’t understand what happened or why, but before meeting him that night, I honestly thought I was broken inside. I figured that I was going to be one of those women who sacrificed love for work, and I was okay with that. I wanted success more than I wanted love—or at least I thought I did. But meeting Cal that night showed me that I wasn’t dead. My heart wasn’t hollow or numb. He taught me something about myself that I didn’t know, so I can’t wish that away. I’m grateful to him for showing me that.”

“You’re so mature. It’s annoying.” She huffed out a long breath.

“And on that note—” I said through a yawn.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Feel better. Heal your stupid heart.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know. I’m just so mad at him,” she said with a groan.

“Get in line,” I shot back, although anger wasn’t the main emotion I felt. At all. I wished it were, because then I’d hurt less.

After Tami hung up, I scrolled through the pictures of Cal and me as I lay in my bed, my comforter wrapped around me. It was a habit that had at first made me happy and giddy. I’d look at them and smile before closing my eyes and falling asleep each night. Now I looked at them and wondered what the hell had happened and where we’d gone so wrong.

One day I wouldn’t need to look at them anymore.

One day they wouldn’t make me feel anything.

One day I’d forget they were there altogether.

One day I’d delete every single one of them.

Today was not that day.

• • •

It had been three weeks and four days since Cal had gone silent and I still wanted him, still longed for him, and still missed him. I wished the feelings would go away, but they weren’t fading.

I didn’t want to feel this way, but my heart refused to listen to reason. Absolutely refused. It mocked me daily, reminding me that something was missing and that we were no longer whole. As if I needed the reminder.

I didn’t. I felt the loss with every breath.

Surprisingly, my mind liked to remind me that something was missing as well. I figured at least one of them would be on my side. When your heart and mind joined forces and worked against you, it was a wonder how a person could function at all without falling apart. The two of them warring against each other was one thing, but having them team up on me was something else altogether.

It was brutal, to say the least.

Fuck you, heart.

Fuck you, mind.

I knew what I’d lost and didn’t know how to get it back. But what really pissed me off the most was the fact that neither of them were helping me get past this. Shouldn’t I have been over him by now? Why wasn’t I well on my way to post-Cal living? How was it that I was still counting the days since I last heard from him?

I should be angry and bitter; I should hate him. But I felt just the opposite because I didn’t stand a chance when my heart and mind worked against me. Or because I was weak. Or in love.

And I didn’t want to be either of those things because I wanted to be strong and a force to be reckoned with. Who the hell reckoned with a weak woman who cried every night over some guy who most likely wasn’t even worth her tears?

This pity party needs to stop, I yelled at my mind, and then I gave my heart a stern talking-to.

Neither listened. They never did.