“It was 2 am and beside me was my best friend. We were both drinking wine in her friend’s house. In a unknown house. Living room. Her boyfriend. And the mother of her friend.
I was starring on the walls and I felt like it should have happened this way.
I loved the feeling of broken hearted drinking the pain away and being with unknown people because I didn’t care. I was heartbroken and I didn’t care.
I just cared to kill my thoughts of him. Or them.
It was 4 am and beside me was my best friend. The friend putted his hand on my leg. And from that point, I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t want his touch. I just wanted to chill with people. I am trying to move on. I was not asking any attention from a guy I didn’t want.
Don’t get me wrong. I still want love, thouches, men. But not in a unknown house with someone that had no appeal to me.
I felt sick and I just wanted to get out of there. And fast. I wanted home. I wanted home and I wanted to cry my heart out.
I left in good terms with everyone. But the second I entered the cab, I cried non-stop.
It was 5 am and I had no one beside me. I was walking the stairs and all I thought was “I hate you that I love you” “I hate you that I love you” and I repeated that until I changed the part “I love you” with “I miss you”.
I cried so much, I cried brushing my teeth, I cried closing the doors, I cried in bed, I cried when I took my contact lenses off.
And I dreamt of you. I dreamt of you loving someone else. I dreamt of everyone not giving a fuck about me. I dreamt bad.
The thing is I wanted to go out so bad that day. And God listened to me and my friends were back in town and they invited me to go out.
And it was a good day until it wasn’t anymore. Because I go through a break-up alone and I don’t realise that I will be in this unstable condition for a while. And maybe this is how it works.
Being ok, laughing with your friends and in the next second wanting home and wanting to cry in your own damn bed.”