Fragile

It’s hard to write right now without writing about love. It’s hard to write without a response back, telling me it’s going to be okay. It’s hard for me to write without him holding me, playing video games or something so he’s not looking over my shoulders. It’s hard for me to write at all. I can’t begin to tell you my story without telling you the end, but maybe the beginning of the end is a good place to start.

He would call me psychotic, because I was a little jealous. I didn’t like my boyfriend texting other girls, and I appreciated knowing where he was. My favorite store was going out of business, a store that I worked for, a store that I loved. I saw the worse in people those few months, and I often came home crying because of the amount of disrespect I was handed on a silver platter every day and night.

One day, this woman begins yelling at one of my fellow employees. It was about something stupid, because she couldn’t get an extra discount, but she was yelling at her, calling her stupid and all kinds of derogatory terms. I wondered over, after my own customer and saw my fellow employees face—full of fear.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry you lost your $20, but we’re losing our jobs. We’re not getting any severance pay, and unfortunately this is the only thing a lot of us have.”

She wasn’t too happy with that, and she said a few choice words to me and fumed off. I hugged my coworker and told her to go take a break. That was something that happened like clockwork. A single person would never be on the floor and would always be somewhere else, just to get away from the chaos, if only for a few minutes.

I told my boyfriend this, his name is Joe. I texted him.

“I’m not having a good day at work today.”

“What happened?” I told him about the lady, without refraining from using her insults and he responded back “I’m sorry baby, remember I love you. Want me to do something special when you get home?”

“All I want right now is a foot rub and to relax with just you, maybe have a glass of wine.”

“I can arrange that, I’ll get a movie and we’ll just have a quiet night in.”

I was excited for the rest of the night. I didn’t let anything else get to me. I rang people up like a hallowed out ghost and didn’t let a single one of them in on my psyche. When I finally got out that night, around eleven o’clock, I called him. No answer. I called him again. No answer. I sent him a text and sat in the parking lot, waiting for a reply and after ten minutes there was still no answer.

I began to head home. It’s not considered cool to sit in your work parking lot, while you wait for a guy to call you back. While I was driving, I noticed the road that two of his friends lived off of. I thought, “Hey, I could just stop by and see if he’s there, he might not be answering because he’s busy visiting or something.”

Pulling into their court, my headlights illuminated everything; a bunch of kids from high school, playing football in the middle of the street. I knew he was involved in the game, and there were so many people. I just simply turned around and went back the way I came. I didn’t feel like visiting with that many people when I was already upset.

He told them I was checking up on him, because I didn’t trust him. He told them that I probably thought he was taking shots or something. I just wanted a night with my boyfriend after a stressful day at work, is that too hard?

Joe had this habit of lying. There were many times where something would happen and he’d blame it on me. His friends would ask to hang out, and he’d say I wouldn’t let him. Then he’d tell me “I just don’t feel like spending time with anyone but you.” Unfortunately, that earned me quite the reputation for being a crazy girlfriend.

We started fighting. Everyone knew that we were fighting, but everyone also knew that we loved each other; except his friends I guess. Every time he hung out with them, he’d come back with a new thing to fight with me about. He would say that I was causing the drama, but it was always him. He’s the one who texted a girl telling her he missed her, and wished she could be with him that night, I took the rep for that one too.

He told me he just didn’t like hanging out with his friends anymore. He told me they were immature, and that they just didn’t understand. He stopped hanging out with them. It was always his choice. They didn’t like that very much, but they blamed me without him even saying it. I became the scapegoat for everything.

It gets to you, ya know? Everyone hated me. He would force me not to hang out with my friends. He would force me not even text them. I felt so alone. He would check my phone, and even though I had done it to him previously, he wouldn’t allow me to check his.

That’s because he was once again texting another girl. On Saturday night, he slept with her. I was his first, and he used everything that I taught him, everything we had learned together, for someone else. On Sunday night, he broke up with me. He told me he just wanted to go into the next area of his life alone, and I believed it. I was sad, but I believed it.

You’d think after two years someone would at least give you the decency of telling you the truth. I don’t believe he doesn’t love me, but I also don’t believe that that matters. I sent him a text the other day and I asked him, “Do you really want me to be over you, because I’ll sleep with someone tonight.” And he sent me back one word,

“Yes.”

My heart dropped, I couldn’t do anything with anyone but him. I can’t do anything with anyone but him.

I’m a beautiful, single young lady. The boys in the lounge make me alternate laps so that they can ensure that everyone gets fair treatment. I’ve been asked out 5 times in the last two days. Apparently I just have the aura of being single. All of a sudden, everyone who has covered up their feelings has stopped covering them.

It’s nice, because I’m never alone. Mom calls me a slut, because there are constantly guys in and out of my bed. I only sleep with them—and I mean actually sleep. For the last two years, I haven’t slept alone and it scares me to all hell.

I know it’s stupid. I know that I’m juvenile, and that I’m a teenager and that my heart’s supposed to be indestructible. It’s not though. I’m not indestructible. I can’t hang on any longer, and I’m done thinking about it.

There was this time that I came home from work and cuddled into his arms and I told him “All I want right now is some Chocolate Chip cookies.” He got up, in a rush, and began putting on his blue jeans. “What?”

“Then let’s go get some!” he said as he kissed my forehead.

We went to Walmart, at 1 am to get cookie dough because it would make me happy. When we got home, I tried to give him a bite of dough, and he said something along the lines of it being gross and unhealthy for you, even though me and him had once gone to the store only for cookie dough and ate through the entire carton. He yelled at me, telling me that I was insensitive of his dreams of being in shape so he could join the marines.

He’s the one who popped out of bed just to get me cookie dough. He’s the one who once held me, but turned away from my computer screen so that I could write.

When he left me, he told everyone that we’ve just been friends with benefits for the last month. He’s been showing off other girls, and sleeping with other girls. His friends say I don’t have any right to be upset because we weren’t actually dating. They say I’m being a drama queen.

He asked me to marry him. He said things like “I hope you know that after I get back from boot camp, I intend to propose to you.” He talked about it with my mother.

I know you probably think, “Why would you marry a jerk like that?” And the only answer that I can give you, is he wasn’t always a jerk. He says he can’t be with me because he’s an ass hole. He is one, but he didn’t used to be. He used to be the guy that smiled, and held me when I was too afraid to go to the dentist for the first time in two years. He let me cry. He rocked me, and calmed me down, just like he loved me, and he held my hand and told me he’d be there every step of the way.

Where are you now Joe? I’m afraid of myself, and you’re not around. I’m afraid of my fears and what they might turn into, and I’m alone in a bed, writing a story without you holding me and looking away.

If I told you I was in crisis mode, would you come? Would you hold my hand, and play with my hair and stroke the back of my arms? Would you sleep with me, and let me cry it all out until I didn’t have anything anymore left to give, and would you be there when I woke up?

The only thing bad about having guys in your bed is they’re never there when you wake up. They’re never there to fix your bed hair or tell you what outfit might look good that day, or what they want to see. They can’t hug you when you wake up from a bad dream, and they can’t keep your bad dreams away.

I dreamt about you tonight Joe. I dreamt that you came to me, and you said “I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life, and despite what everyone says or thinks, we’re going to work through this, and we’re going to be us again.”

I took you back. I would take you back, if you were here while I was in crisis mode.
Tonight I’m alone. I’m sitting here, holding my baby blankets and my computer on my lap. I’m watching my 43” television. My rabbits asleep next to the igloo that he bought her, and there are a bottle of pain meds within arm’s reach.

Everyone tells me it’ll get better. Everyone tells me I need to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else. I used to tell people that he was my soul mate. It sounds so stupid now, but in the 2 years we were dating, I can count the fights that we had on one hand. You can’t tell me that that’s a bad match.

I miss the way he stroked my arms with his finger tips. I miss the way he’d rub my back when I was stressed out. I miss the way he looked away from my computer when I wrote.

Who’s holding me now while I spread these words across these pages? Who’s not looking? He sure isn’t, and he wouldn’t look if I reached over and I picked up the pills and I took them.

Oh God.

Unfinished.

It’s hard to write right now without writing about love. It’s hard to write without a response back, telling me it’s going to be okay. It’s hard for me to write without him holding me, playing video games or something so he’s not looking over my shoulders. It’s hard for me to write at all. I can’t begin to tell you my story without telling you the end, but maybe the beginning of the end is a good place to start.
He would call me psychotic, because I was a little jealous. I didn’t like my boyfriend texting other girls, and I appreciated knowing where he was. My favorite store was going out of business, a store that I worked for, a store that I loved. I saw the worse in people those few months, and I often came home crying because of the amount of disrespect I was handed on a silver platter every day and night.
One day, this woman begins yelling at one of my fellow employees. It was about something stupid, because she couldn’t get an extra discount, but she was yelling at her, calling her stupid and all kinds of derogatory terms. I wondered over, after my own customer and saw my fellow employees face—full of fear.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry you lost your $20, but we’re losing our jobs. We’re not getting any severance pay, and unfortunately this is the only thing a lot of us have.”
She wasn’t too happy with that, and she said a few choice words to me and fumed off. I hugged my coworker and told her to go take a break. That was something that happened like clockwork. A single person would never be on the floor and would always be somewhere else, just to get away from the chaos, if only for a few minutes.
I told my boyfriend this, his name is Joe. I texted him.
“I’m not having a good day at work today.”
“What happened?” I told him about the lady, without refraining from using her insults and he responded back “I’m sorry baby, remember I love you. Want me to do something special when you get home?”
“All I want right now is a foot rub and to relax with just you, maybe have a glass of wine.”
“I can arrange that, I’ll get a movie and we’ll just have a quiet night in.”
I was excited for the rest of the night. I didn’t let anything else get to me. I rang people up like a hallowed out ghost and didn’t let a single one of them in on my psyche. When I finally got out that night, around eleven o’clock, I called him. No answer. I called him again. No answer. I sent him a text and sat in the parking lot, waiting for a reply and after ten minutes there was still no answer.
I began to head home. It’s not considered cool to sit in your work parking lot, while you wait for a guy to call you back. While I was driving, I noticed the road that two of his friends lived off of. I thought, “Hey, I could just stop by and see if he’s there, he might not be answering because he’s busy visiting or something.”
Pulling into their court, my headlights illuminated everything; a bunch of kids from high school, playing football in the middle of the street. I knew he was involved in the game, and there were so many people. I just simply turned around and went back the way I came. I didn’t feel like visiting with that many people when I was already upset.
He told them I was checking up on him, because I didn’t trust him. He told them that I probably thought he was taking shots or something. I just wanted a night with my boyfriend after a stressful day at work, is that too hard?
Joe had this habit of lying. There were many times where something would happen and he’d blame it on me. His friends would ask to hang out, and he’d say I wouldn’t let him. Then he’d tell me “I just don’t feel like spending time with anyone but you.” Unfortunately, that earned me quite the reputation for being a crazy girlfriend.
We started fighting. Everyone knew that we were fighting, but everyone also knew that we loved each other; except his friends I guess. Every time he hung out with them, he’d come back with a new thing to fight with me about. He would say that I was causing the drama, but it was always him. He’s the one who texted a girl telling her he missed her, and wished she could be with him that night, I took the rep for that one too.
He told me he just didn’t like hanging out with his friends anymore. He told me they were immature, and that they just didn’t understand. He stopped hanging out with them. It was always his choice. They didn’t like that very much, but they blamed me without him even saying it. I became the scapegoat for everything.
It gets to you, ya know? Everyone hated me. He would force me not to hang out with my friends. He would force me not even text them. I felt so alone. He would check my phone, and even though I had done it to him previously, he wouldn’t allow me to check his.
That’s because he was once again texting another girl. On Saturday night, he slept with her. I was his first, and he used everything that I taught him, everything we had learned together, for someone else. On Sunday night, he broke up with me. He told me he just wanted to go into the next area of his life alone, and I believed it. I was sad, but I believed it.
You’d think after two years someone would at least give you the decency of telling you the truth. I don’t believe he doesn’t love me, but I also don’t believe that that matters. I sent him a text the other day and I asked him, “Do you really want me to be over you, because I’ll sleep with someone tonight.” And he sent me back one word,
“Yes.”
My heart dropped, I couldn’t do anything with anyone but him. I can’t do anything with anyone but him.
I’m a beautiful, single young lady. The boys in the lounge make me alternate laps so that they can ensure that everyone gets fair treatment. I’ve been asked out 5 times in the last two days. Apparently I just have the aura of being single. All of a sudden, everyone who has covered up their feelings has stopped covering them.
It’s nice, because I’m never alone. Mom calls me a slut, because there are constantly guys in and out of my bed. I only sleep with them—and I mean actually sleep. For the last two years, I haven’t slept alone and it scares me to all hell.
Tonight I’m alone. I’m sitting here, holding my baby blankets and my computer on my lap. I’m watching my 43” television. My rabbits asleep next to the igloo that he bought her, and there are a bottle of pain meds within arm’s reach.
Everyone tells me it’ll get better. Everyone tells me I need to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else. I used to tell people that he was my soul mate. It sounds so stupid now, but in the 2 years we were dating, I can count the fights that we had on one hand. You can’t tell me that that’s a bad match.
I miss the way he stroked my arms with his finger tips. I miss the way he’d rub my back when I was stressed out. I miss the way he looked away from my computer when I wrote.
I know it’s stupid. I know that I’m juvenile, and that I’m a teenager and that my heart’s supposed to be indestructible. It’s not though. I’m not indestructible. I can’t hang on any longer, and I’m done thinking about it.
There was this time that I came home from work and cuddled into his arms and I told him “All I want right now is some Chocolate Chip cookies.” He got up, in a rush, and began putting on his blue jeans. “What?”
“Then let’s go get some!” he said as he kissed my forehead.
We went to Walmart, at 1 am to get cookie dough because it would make me happy. When we got home, I tried to give hima bite of dough, and he said something along the lines of it being gross and unhealthy for you, even though me and him had once gone to the store only for cookie dough and ate through the entire carton. He yelled at me, telling me that I was insensitive of his dreams of being in shape so he could join the marines.
He’s the one who popped out of bed just to get me cookie dough.