Betrayal Diaries III

24 hours later. Still haven’t heard from you. What is this? Some sort of a joke? Revenge? Scaring me? What?
I go to bed early at night, in hopes of making time fly by without actually having to hear every single second tick. What do I get? I wake up early! It’s almost 8:00 am when I get up. I’m supposed to study. I have another exam coming up tomorrow. But I can’t get you out my head. There’s virtually no room for knowledge in there right now! So I turn on my laptop pc, the messenger, and my Gmail account are going to be on until I get a chance to talk to you.
I grab my notes, lie down on the tiny living room couch which by the way is too tiny for a tall gal like me, and pretend to study. In reality, I have more than half an eye on the monitor! This goes on for hours. At around 1:30 pm I dose off. What’s the point of staying awake anyway? I’m not really getting anything out of keeping my notes in front of my face!
I wake up with a bad feeling. Not because sleeping on the couch isn’t good for my bad neck and shoulder. Not just because I’m freezing cold. It’s like something gone wrong while I’m sleeping…
And there it is, right there in front of my eyes: a new e-mail. You’ve responded to the one I sent you last night. “Wish you the best with your book. Make me proud. Good luck.” That’s ALL!
Now I’m trying to keep cool. I have my lunch in a plate in my hands, which I just put on the floor. I take my keys and my cell phone. In like 30 seconds I’m out there on the street. I don’t even care to change. I don’t have to. You see, I’m still in the t-shirt and the blue-jeans I was wearing to college yesterday.
On the street, all the shops are closed. My friends told me that there was a riot going on and that it wasn’t safe to go out. But, who cares? I have to find a pay phone, I know if I use mine you won’t pick up. I’m running up and down the stupid street, looking for a phone, and tears are running down my face in two wild rivers. I see a phone, and I have only 3 coins. But deep inside, I know it’s no use. That you won’t talk to me. I dial a few times. I’m right. No answer. I then totally lose it. I sit on the sidewalk. I cry like, like, like my life just ended! Some guys are there, watching me in wonder. A couple of them come forward, ask me if I’m fine. Of course I’m not. They probe some more, and before I know I’m telling them that I had a stupid fight with my man yesterday and now he won’t talk to me. They offer help. There’s nothing they can do. One buys me some juice, the other water. Yet another tells me how lucky you are to have me love you so much. I wish you feel lucky to have me.
I need to talk to you. To hear your voice at least if I can’t see your face. I call Sharon. I’m crying my eyes out. By now I’m sobbing and coughing and I can’t breathe anymore. She suggests that we meet. I know she feels guilty over not having been there for me in weeks. That’s what being a counselor is about. But, what the heck, it’s not like I’m paying her. She’s doing this as a favor to a potential friend. I love to meet her right now though. I can’t go back home, my blades and cutters are there. Can’t afford to be there now.
We meet in less than an hour. I’m still in yesterday’s clothes, wrinkled and ugly looking. But I don’t care. I just want to look good for you. We sit to talk. But, it’s just me crying, and trying to say that I’ll die without you and begging her to find a way for us to meet. She’s hopeless too. Is out of the right things to say, has no clue what to do. She just holds me in her arms and lets me get her dress all wet and messy with my tears. When I finally stop, it’s because I have no more energy to put into crying. I just lean on her for a while, trying to get my breath back. I promise her that when I talk to you, if you say that you want out, I’ll just let you go. I’m honest. I can’t fight it anymore. You don’t want to stay for you, then I don’t want you to stay for me either. At the same time, I don’t see it in you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t love me anymore. I’m as sure as your love for me as I am as me being alive! You can’t make a mistake there, can you?!?
She promises to get you to talk to me tonight. I must be pretty pathetic. I have to promise her that I’ll take my exam tomorrow in return. I will…
Now I head back home. Can’t wait to see if you’ve sent me new e-mails. I log in first thing, and yes, I have an off-line message on my messenger: “Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell. Edna St. Vincent”
My heart is killing me. It hurts so bad, feels like it’s going to explode into a thousand tiny pieces of pain in a minute or so, to be all over me, for the pain to be in every cell, to get worse with every breath. I can’t wait for it to happen. I’m a fighter you know, a survivor. I have to come up with something to do. So I sent you another e-mail.

Honey,

Where I used to be, that's where I still am. There's not going to be a hole of emptiness inside you in my place. I'm right there. You might be upset, which you have every right to be. I screwed up. What you don't seem to understand is that it's not the pain of being with you that drives me crazy at times, it's the pressure of not being with you!

As a wise man once said, nothing's over yet. Nothing is over, as long as I live. I'm keeping my promises to you. Haven't hurt myself since yesterday, though God knows how I wanted to. I'm showing up for the exam tomorrow, though I haven't studied one bit. I'm not going to kill myself, because I know I still have you.
The only thing taking a blow is the book. I need my inspiration to be able to work on it. I miss you...
As far as your promises to me are concerned, I trust you with all my heart. I know you're still out there for me, your way. You just take my silly anger too seriously at times. It usually lasts only a few minutes you know.

Now remember how scared you were the night I turned my phone off and disappeared. Remember how that hurt you? You don't wanna hurt me like that. So, move your ass and call me. If you do I'll be able to study a little. And by the way, tomorrow when I show up, I'm going to be my nicest ever. You don't have anything to worry about when you come to say hi!

Besos,
Piece!!!

It’s not enough though. I have to do something more. A test-message will do, though I can’t be sure whether or not you receive it. I send it anyway: “Dear Spike, I need to talk to you for five minutes. Will you call me please?”
The call comes after about twenty minutes. But for me, having waited for more than 24 hours –it’s about 7:00 pm by now- it’s soon enough. I hear your voice and tears well up into my eyes again. I’m trying my best to keep calm, I know it hurts you to see me sad, but I can’t help it. I’m sobbing and telling you how sorry I am and telling you you’re free to go and asking you if you are going to. You must hear the panic, the pain, the desperation in my voice. Yours, even though cold and distance once more, breaks a few times. You must be about to cry too. You keep telling me that you want me to be happy. You tell me that you didn’t mean to hurt or even scare me. That you were simply angry, needed some time alone. That you’re going to be around!
Now that scares me! You know how I play with words. If I ever tell you that I’m going to be around, you should pray to God that I won’t. Coming from me, it would mean: I’m going to be there, in front of your eyes, for the rest of your life, to show you what you missed! To make you suffer, and hurt, forever!
You say it now, and my heart stops. Your voice, my God your voice! It used to be so warm, for me. How can it be ice-cold now? I ask you how:
- It’s getting cold. My voice is getting colder too!
- I’m happy you can at least laugh AT me!
- Honey, I’m sorry!
That helps break the ice a bit. You’re more you now. You even apologize for having always been a bad-tempered man. I tell you that you haven’t. You haven’t. You tell me that it might get tougher everyday, that you want me to understand, that you want us both to be happy for the short while that we can be together. I do understand. I say goodbye before you do. Trying so hard to be understanding, of you, your feelings, and your situation. You thank me for putting up with your mess. You don’t realize that it’s my mess too now. You ask me not to cry. To go back to my books. To be a good girl. You don’t ask me to be your good girl this time…
Less than half an hour later, you call again. To tell me that you may not be able to call or message me again tonight, to say goodnight, to wish me sweet dreams. How like you to do that! That’s the man I fell in love with.
I’m not crying anymore after your second call. But my head, still a ball of pain. My heart, still on fire. My life, still a piece of hell. I hope it will be ok tomorrow when I meet you at college.

Betrayal Diaries II

How I’d love to stay at home, not show up for the exam. But it’s just a crazy dream, like proving to myself that I don’t care. I don’t care about this exam. I don’t care about education. I don’t care about what people say. I don’t care if it hurts you. It’s all a big show you see. I don’t have the guts to actually do it.
I do show up. As I walk in, I see one of my favorite girls, Anna. We kiss and hug. Others show up too. Before I know it, I’m sort of surrounded by the students, the ones I like, and the ones I don’t.
I’m going to the notice board to see where my seat is going to be. I see you. Standing there, so tall, with your back towards me, and some girls are talking to you. Do I locate you so easily because you’re so handsomely tall, or is it because I’m so fixated on you my eyes can’t see anything else?!?
I walk past you. I don’t turn around to look at you or say hi. I’m sure you see me. You’re in love too. I’m still talking to the girls. I know you don’t like them. I talk, tell them how bad I feel, how scared, and that I’m just there to give them some courage! That I’m not taking the exam myself. All the time, you’re supposedly talking to your gang; your eyes are on me though. Your smile, so bright and broad and happy, is all mine.
I’m having another coughing fit. You know that it’s not the cold. You’ve seen me double over and cough my insides out so many times. To you it means what it’s supposed to mean: I’ve either been crying a lot, or I’m having an anxiety attack. This time it’s kind of both! You haven’t even said hello yet. But you ask me if I’m fine. I know how you hate my tone of voice when I say Sure, fine!
We walk towards the examination hall. You’re going to be in the same hall, with me. I don’t know if we’ll be sitting close enough though.
-“I’ve never liked to cheat. But I’d love to cheat with you!”
That rings a bell?!?
You follow us, without your gang of girls. As we stop outside the hall to chat some more –you know girls and chatting! - you catch up with us. You ask one of my friends a question. I’m still pissed, but I can’t help laughing. She’s such a know-it-all fellow; you’re going to have a hell of a laugh afterwards. How cruel you can be at times!
You try to take me aside. But it can’t be. There are too many people around. They all know us. They even like us. They want to be around. Heck, it’s an exam day, they need the moral support, need to know that we’re all in the same boat, not really ready!
We get inside with everybody else. Anna is the only one sitting between us. You’re so close. During the whole exam, I’m watching you as mush as I’m concentrating on my paper. I can’t really sit and answer stupid questions on stupid subjects that I’m not even interested in while you’re sitting like three feet away! I should be in your arms right now! I write all I can come up with at a situation like this. I manage to catch your eye –have you been watching me too? I tell you that I’m getting out. Almost half the time remains. And you say that you’ll join me in five minutes.
I’m on top of the world.
You come out and sit with me. We talk about the exam. How bad we did. How we practically made up each and every answer! We’re having a good laugh. I’m thinking that the exam won’t be over for more than an hour yet. Time enough for us to do something, to go to our place The Naughty Angel maybe and have something. But you say you have to go back. Why? You don’t have to! You can pretend to be at the exam. Now I’m really pissed again. Do you, or don’t you want to take every chance you get to be with me? We’re talking an hour here! And you’re going to waste it.
How many times have you told me that you can’t change things? You know I hate it about you. You being so weak. Hiding behind a wall of incapability. Being in denial. Not wanting to make decisions. Not wanting to act. The stupid need to be liked and loved and approved by everyone, at any cost.
How many times have I told you that you can’t because you don’t want it bad enough? I believe that if you want something bad enough, you want anything bad enough, you’ll get it. I actually believe that, despite what you might think. It’s what I’ve been living by for years. It’s why I haven’t given up on life. Why I strive and struggle and fight. Because I know that if I want something bad enough, if I try hard enough, then I’ll get it.
I’m walking out on you again. I tell you that you don’t appreciate me now; you should wait till I’m gone. That the moment I’m out of your hands forever, then you’re going to realize what you’ve missed.
-I won’t miss moments like this though!
Not a very nice thing to say. Not when your girl is screaming for love and attention. I walk out. You follow, for a few feet. I hear you call my name, but I don’t turn around. In like ten seconds you stop and go back. I walk on. I’m still walking when you catch up with me on your bike. Why follow if you don’t wanna be nice? I don’t understand. You ask me to join you for a quick drink. I deserve so much more than that. Don’t have to settle for it. I don’t…
You say: “So, all I do, sneaking out, taking a risk day and night, to come and visit you, it means nothing! Everything is my fault!”
- It does mean something. It’s just that you don’t care enough about me. All I ever asked you to was to prove that you cared about me. I guess you don’t!
- And since when you and I have become two separate concepts, if I may ask?
- Let me see, hmm, since, like forever! We were never we, because you didn’t want us to. We’ve always been you and me.
As you drive by, in your ugly anger, I break down and cry. It’s getting easier by the day you see. There was a time, not very long ago, when I couldn’t have stood the sight of you driving away angrily. I would’ve died for the fear of you never coming back. Now I can keep a straight face while you’re around. I can always break down and cry and go weak and die afterwards.
I walk all the way back home. My cell phone is off. I’m afraid if I turn it on, if you call, then I can’t be strong, I might pick up. It takes me hours to get home. Then I turn the phone on. Your message reads: “I know. You say now: how easy it is for you to… See you later.”
Oh God, how many times have I fallen prey to your empty promises of being there for me? Why am I falling again? Will I ever learn?
Will I be strong this time? Will I actually manage to set you, and myself free? God knows I don’t want to be free. I want to stay. For as long as you will keep me. The problem is, you’re not keeping me tightly enough…
I hate myself when I’m strong like this. I hate to pretend that I don’t care. I hate to put up a show of being able to let you go, a show of surviving without you. But, the thing is, I’m just a girl after all. Not having my man take care of me, not having my man be there for me and have my back, I have to be strong myself. Life, the world, people, it’s all about the survival of the fittest. Let them see you’re weak and they’ll swallow you up. I’m not losing the fight of life over a love affair that doesn’t mean anything to anyone but me. That would be too foolish.
I am going to put up a good front, put up a good fight, for as long as I can. If it’s not a nice sight for you to see, you can start fighting beside me. That will help…

Hours pass by. One by one. It’s been, how many hours? I’m not sure.
I’m sitting at my PC, downloading music as usual. My messenger is on. The ID that you use. I never told you what it means or where it came from. It’s “Honey and the Moon”, my favorite Joseph Arthur song:

We're made out of blood and rust
looking for someone to trust
without
a fight
I think that you came too soon
you're the honey and the moon
that lights
up my night

But right now
everything is turning blue,
and right now
the sun is trying to kill the moon,
and right now
I wish I could follow you
to the shores
of freedom
where no one lives

Anyways, the messenger’s up, and there you are:
- Hmmm…
We both know what it means. You like it when I make that sound. But right now, I’m still pissed. I don’t exactly welcome your jokes. In less than two minutes, I tell you to fuck off. And you do!

How many hours have ticked on me since?
I have no clue. I can’t even see, can’t look at my watch. My eyes are swollen the size of large walnuts. All red and hot and painful. My head is exploding with pain. I’m not crying anymore for I have no tears left. No body fluids at all! I give you a couple of missed calls. I know you can’t pick up. But this is my only way of contacting you, letting you know that I need you. The third time I try to call, the phone is off…
I send you an e-mail:

Hi;

I think you may not be talking to me anymore, specially after not what you did at noon, but after the very bad attitude you showed when you were on-line a couple of hours ago. Anyways, this might be the last time I write to you. I'm going to be working on my book, as I was when you signed in (that's why I told you that I didn't have the time for it if you wanted to make fun!). I'll be writing to you, you see, since the book is addressing you all the time. The book is going to be an account of my life, after, and even before I met you. It's a sort of, not justification of why I'm alive because nothing justifies that unfortunate mistake, but an explanation of why I needed you to be kind and nice. It explains how you failed me, not having it in you to be nice and kind to anyone. It talks about how I failed myself, not having a better common sense or judgment!
For the book I'll always be thankful and grateful to you, for I would've never had the confidence to start it without you. If this is goodbye, I may not have the power to finish it though.
But, I'm still your Chica. There's nothing in the world that can change that. It's a matter of choice you see. I CHOOSE to remains yours, even though you may not keep me at your side, as close as is within your power. I'm not asking for miracles anymore. I've lost all hope...
Will we be friends?
By the way, me, not showing up for the other three exams -if I decide not to show up- has nothing to do with you, is not your fault. I want you to study the best that you can. Get the highest marks possible. Do well, for me. I don't need the guilt of your failure added to my already not so very clear conscience! If I don't show up it will be because I'm too busy putting my mind on paper, spilling my heart out, getting you out of my system (I have to do it you see. Today, it seems like you've left me for good), and trying to find some other reason to hold on to my fucked up life for. Something besides having promised you that I won't die. That promise, right now, seems as good as the promise you made to be nice to me a few days ago...
I still love you. It will never be easy to let you go. The pain of not having you is never going to go away...

Your Chica,
With the same love as ever,
Wishing you peace,
And:
Piece!!!

P.S: Hope to see you around. Will you talk to me ever again?!?

What can I say? What do I do?
I need to talk to someone. I need to get it off my chest. I can’t die of a broken heart. Who will find the body if I die tonight? After how many days? It can’t happen. Too ugly, too much pain. I call Freda. She’s a nice girl. You actually suspect she knows about us. It’s not true. I had to give her a very twisted version of the story, because I needed to have someone to talk to, on nights like this. So I call. And we talk.
I tell her about the scene today. Without telling her that I was actually dying to spend time with you. She’s such a traditional girl, believes in doing the right thing at any cost. She tells me the right thing. Tells me that I’m going to be the loser here. Everybody says that. I know it’s true. It’s a fact, and I’ve accepted it. I just don’t know why tonight, out of all the nights that I’ve sat alone in my misery, out of all the nights that you’ve left me feeling abandoned, tonight I’m actually considering this right thing to do.
She believes you’re simply a man like any other. You are sick and tired of your married life. You’re looking for some changes, something fresh, new, and fun. I’m right there for you. But, like we all know, you don’t have the guts to ever try to put things right at home. You’re neither going to divorce her, or tell her that the marriage is just a formality. You’re not going to devote yourself to her either. In the end, I’m going to be left high and dry anyways. You’ll end up miserably married, still looking for love and happiness, but not with me. Molly will be married to you, still fancying any male being she lays eyes on, using you and abusing you and getting more than she’s worth.
I’ll end up lonely, regretting having ever met you.
My friends believe I should stop it, once and for all. I should stop taking your calls. I should stop meeting you. Even at college, where we have to meet, I should be cool, cold and distance.
It’s true. It’s what I should do. What I’m supposed to do. The right thing to do. It’s just that I’m not ready to do it yet. I’m not strong enough. Will I ever be?!? Soon…