I wake up just before 5 a.m. with the sound of the pouring rain outside. I can hear it weeping big, fat teardrops that make loud clunks when they fall. I get up, yawn, and wipe my eyes - I know I'm not going back to sleep. I'm still sleepy, though, not yet fully awake, on auto-pilot. Go to the loo and pee. Then go to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Sit on the chair and wait. Make some tea, go and stand by the windowpane, and watch the rivulets of rain streaming down. They mirror mine own slow, small streams, that ebb from my eyes. Ess didn't call the next day, nor the day after that. She never called. I tried calling her, but she never picked up the phone. Never responded to a text. And though I do know where she lives, I don't have it in me to go there. It's not what I do. I've watched my days become a succession of moments that seem to take eternities to go by, and all because I can't turn off this thing I got inside me. I can't stop thinking about those days we had together. And of course, to make things worse, I still dream of the other her. Sometimes, in those dreams, everyone's happy. The other 'us', they've got a good thing going. But sometimes it's just sad, and it's just fighting. I wonder, was this what was in store for us? The bickering, the spats? I guess I'll never know.
I try to distract myself from thinking about her, I really do. It's a Saturday afternoon, and I'm out and about when I decide to go to Planetarium - a place I've not gone to ever since I was a kid. God, I used to love it here. I'd always come at least twice a year, either on a school trip or with my parents, and I was in awe of the cosmos being projected right above me. It made me want to be an astronaut when I was younger, but hah, that wasn't even a dream. Not even a possibility. But I was just happy to see comets whizzing by, and the solar system, and the northern lights - it always made me feel like I was elsewhere. Oh, how happy I was then - there was no sorrow, there was no pain. There's a couple sitting close to me, I'm pretty sure the girl just proposed to him - gosh, look at how fucking happy they are. There's a love story for the ages, I reckon. It seems something that just about anyone can attain, so why can't I? I force myself from looking at them, these beautiful, perfect people. My gaze turns upwards, and I lose myself in the ambient music, and in the rote universe above. A soothing voice states that the stars above us now are called the Pleiades. They're beautiful. Had I seen them before? Or had I dreamt of them before? I seem to remember looking up at them, together or alone, in past and future lives. As I exit the building, I see that couple again. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a tinge of envy. God damn.
The weeks pass, turn into months. I watch a movie every night before I go to sleep, and it's always the same handful of movies. I go back to the same books, over and over again - like the joy of repetition is really in me. Music has become a sort of background noise that I either ignore or feel aggravated by. This thing won't turn off. It just won't. Anywhere I go, anything I do, anything at all - she's still there, everywhere. And you know, sometimes I call her, or text her, but silence is all I get. This is destroying me - I don't eat, I don't sleep well, all I do is think about her. Does she dream of me? Does she even think of me? Every time I bring up this subject with friends, they just shake their heads and tell me that I just gotta let it go. How? How do I do that? How in the name of fuck do I do that? I can't, I can't, I must, but I can't. And I don't even wish I could. And if you were to ask me 'why', I wouldn't rightly know what to say. If you'd asked me 'But do you love her?', I wouldn't know exactly - because what haunts is that I never got to find out. It's like a puzzle that you've been assembling your whole life and then you find out there's a piece missing, and somehow you find it, only to have it vanish from under you. It's heartbreaking to feel how I feel. Because I just wanted to know... I wanted to know why. Or anything, really. The worst bit is that I don't even see her anymore, and leaves me feeling guilty, thinking that she had to change her routine, or maybe even more, just not to see me. It hurts - it's not even being unwanted or undesired, it's feeling like you're just... inconvenient. I keep looking at my phone, hoping that she texts me, or calls. And one day, one day she does.
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