Such a simple question, which would most definitely have an even simpler answer. For anyone but me, that is.
But if I looked at it practically, the answerwasindeed very simple. It’s just that, for some reason, it felt inadequate now that I’d seen Carina’s reaction to my decision.
So, instead of being rational and telling her why we couldn’t do what we both wanted to, I took another step back and repeated myself. “I can’t.”
She swallowed, and her chest rose and fell as she took even breaths. I could tell that she was struggling to understand my sudden change of behavior, and I really wish I could explain it to her; wish Iknewhow to do it in the first place.
After a short while, she pushed her hair behind her left ear and began writing something. Then, once she was done, sheflipped the diary in my direction, but kept her gaze turned sideways, like she couldn’t even look at me anymore.
It hurts.
My eyes burned as I read those two words, again and again. As if she hadn’t already been through enough hell in her life, nowIwas acting like a damn punisher to her.
“Rina…” I let her name fall from my lips; let it brush against the suffocating air I was breathing in.
She inhaled sharply, threw the diary and marker on the couch, and then turned around before heading up the stairs and back into her bedroom.
As I watched her go, I let the throbbing pain in my gut multiply. I let it take over every thought, every reason in my muddled head. I did, after all, deserve every bit of it.
8. Rejection
They’re so annoyingly abstract, these emotions. And yet, they see no rhyme or reason; they just attack. They claw at you so deep – their talons sharp and piercing – that you have no choice but to surrender.
I’ll never fully know why I can’t let certain things go. Why I can’t stop thinking about the different outcomes they’d lead to if only I could just…ask. If only I could put a proper voice to the things I wanted to know and learn about.
Things I simply wanted to say.Outloud.
His rejection had slammed against me like a wrecking ball, even though it shouldn’t have.
His sympathy towards my naivety had been embarrassing, to say the least.
And the way he’d said my name after I’d told him that he’d hurt me – it’d been just as painful to hear as the words he’d uttered just before it.
I can’t. I really can’t, I’m sorry.
Well,Icouldn’t, either.
I couldn’t stand the idea of him having affected me so much. We were strangers, after all, and he was here only temporarily, to fix something that actually needed fixing. You know, the walls, the floors, the cabinets.
Notme.
9. It Hurts
They’re so damn conceptual, these feelings. And yet, they don’t give an inch’s worth of shit; they just strike. They cut through you so fast – their blades true and sharp – that you have no option but to give in.
I’ll never fully understand why I care so much about what others think – of me and my choices. Why I can’t brave brushing aside outside scrutiny and do what matters the most tome. If only I could put the right amount of emphasis on the idea ofgoingwiththeflow.
On the things I simply wanted tohave.
Her anger had slammed against me like a bolt of lightning.
The pain on her face towards my cowardice had been torturous, to say the least.
And those two words she’d written in my diary before walking away from me – they’d been just as painful to read as the question she’d asked before them.
It hurts.
God, it reallydidhurt. Knowing that I’d put tears in her eyes, distrust on her mind, and maybe even hatred in her heart, wasn’t exactly a comforting feeling.
