I put the phone down.
Pick it up.
Put it down.
The pills are on my desk.
I take more than I should.
Don’t even count how much I took.
Just to get through the night.
Just to stop the loop.
• • •
In the morning I feel nothing.
I eat breakfast.
Go to class.
Come back.
I send one more text.
I need you. I’m not okay. Please.
He reads it at 11am.
At 9pm —
I know. I’m so sorry Ro. I’ll call tomorrow.
He doesn’t call tomorrow.
Of course he doesn’t.
I know he won’t before I even go to sleep.
• • •
I know him.
Knowing him is the thing that saves me and destroys me in equal measure and I cannot figure out how to make it just one of those things.
• • •
May.
The last text I send him is on a Tuesday.
Midnight.
Pills already taken.
Edges already soft.
