But now, I’m the ghost of a guy who thought he had a shot. I see her across rooms, in hallways, sitting in class—right fucking there—and it’s as if my body doesn’t know what to do with itself. As if some part of me still thinks I get to walk over and make her laugh.
And then I remember I don’t.
I unlock my phone and open a new note. My fingers hesitate over the keyboard, like they know I’m about to say shit I’ll never have the balls to send.
But I start typing anyway.
I know this is dumb and you probably don’t give a shit, but I was tagged in a picture on IG last night that doesn’t sit right with me. If you saw that picture, it’d make you think I’m doing okay. Which is a fucking lie.
I don’t even know the girl’s name. She asked for a photo and I said yes because it was easier than saying no. She kissed my cheek right as the flash went off. I don’t know if you saw it, but I feel fucking guilty that it even happened.
I feel like I cheated on you or some shit which is fucking stupid, I know, because you probably don’t care and you’ve moved on with Drewbacca. But I can’t change the fact that even though you don’t want to be mine, I still feel like I’m yours.
Fuck, I hate that I look okay in that stupid fucking picture.
I’m not okay, Julia. I’m fucking miserable without you.
I meant what I said, Julia. I meant all of it.
I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU.
I know I should stop thinking about you.
I know I should stop hoping.
But if you knocked on my door right now? I wouldn’t ask a single question.
I’d let you in. And I’d pull you into my arms.
God, I miss us.
I miss you.
But again, you probably don’t care about any of this shit and that’s probably why I shouldn’t bother sending it to you.
I stare at it for way too long. The screen dims, and I tap it back on. I even copy and paste the fucker into my text chat with Julia. My thumb hovers over the send button like I’m going to push it.
But I don’t.
Instead, I select all and hit delete.
Andpoof.The words are gone.
I flip my phone over, screen down, and press the heels of my hands into my eyes.
I miss her so fucking much, it’s physically painful.
But I guess that’s the price of loving someone who doesn’t love you back.
Friday, October 17th
Ace
Subject: SOS
One month and four days, Jules.
