After years of absolute denial which kept me strong, this hope is making me weak, more susceptible to his love, an absolute wrath in my heart over the thought of his abandonment…again. I can’t let this happen to me again.
But, what about that hope? But, it drags me back to the place from where I started. All this strength that I clustered through the force of time and truth. But, what if he really comes back? What if I still have the chance to redeem him for my own self? This very emotion, the only emotion makes me weak, like every part of my body has been attacked with cancer cells and refuse to leave.
“It’s time to act,” I say to myself with whatever left conscience I hold. I straighten up, take a deep breath and start taping my hands on the broken screen of my phone like I did years ago which still hits me like a dreadful storm. This time it’s going to hold different words. This time I guide my fingers with the fragility of that hope and type “I love you.” The very text he sends me the day before I chose to let that storm into my life. And after minutes of retorting, I push the ‘send’ button as hard as my fingers could, without slipping away with the sweat of my palms. It feels like a huge stone that was rolling around my chest has lifted. It almost feels unreal, much lighter.
I throw my phone away on the pillow. It lies a feet away from me. I stare at it impatiently. Anxiety, filling me up like air in a balloon now.
A minute later my phone beeps. I throw myself on the pillow and grab the phone. It’s funny how I did not command my brain to do that. There it was. He replied. My lips immediately imitate the words in the text with a hint of sound coming from my voice box.
I felt nothing, like I knew what it would be, the moment I sent my confession. My intuition calculated my response to be heartbreaking but here I was, feeling nothing at all, in fact it feels like emptiness has replaced the part that holds feelings. Feelings, which gives man something to live than merely exist.
How stupid was I to give my fantasy a chance over his reality? Wait, I am not that stupid.
I open my eyes. I am lying on my bed with my phone under my back. I quickly open and check. It wasn’t there, that text I sent him. I was dreaming. There was no “ It’s too late,” reply from him. I laugh at the thought and say “I am not brave enough to give my fantasy a chance, I am not brave enough,” and went back to chase another fantasy.