This post was published sometime around August’15. It got deleted and I managed to forget all about it like a complete ass. So here it is again, with little finishing twitches here and there and the concept has been borrowed from Tumblr. I read something like this and thought to try my hand at this.
7am: I wake up from a dream about you. I hate myself for having that dream for about 5 minutes then I jump into the shower.
7:15 am: I check my phone and there’s still no word from you. I throw the phone roughly on the bed and get ready for work.
1pm: I’ve drowned in work so I don’t think about you. But damn it to hell, nothing works. I can still smell you from the dream.
3pm: I eat lunch with a friend. Your name comes up and my stomach drops all the way to Satan’s cage. I lie and say whatever you do doesn’t concern me. I lie and say that I’m over you.
7pm: I come back to an empty home and the air gets heavier and more difficult to breathe. I take my phone out and read old messages to torture myself.
8pm: I have no idea how the bottle of water in my hand turned into a glass of whiskey. I read an old text which cuts me open from shoulder to waist in one stroke and I gasp for air.
8:30pm: The books you bought for me taunt me through the shelf while I make dinner for one. At this point, I’m ready to burn them to ashes and burn those ashes again. But I know I won’t, because I’ll desperately cling on to any memory of you.
9pm: TV seems stupid. Social media seems stupid. Laughing seems stupid. Breathing seems stupid. Stupid seems stupider. The only thing that doesn’t seem stupid is that I need you. I didn’t think I’d need you like this. I didn’t think that I’d stop existing if you left. But what’s the point? You already did, and you left those fucking memories.
10pm: Last night’s dream comes to mind, and I give into it. I give into the feeling of you touching me. The way you curse, the way you grind your teeth together in lust, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you can’t handle any more, the feel of your cool lips against mine when you first kissed me, the taste of your blood when I bit your lip a little too hard. It fucks me up further to realize that you literally run in my bloodstream.
11pm: it seems like it’ll be an age before I hit the call button on my phone. Why should I call you? You made it clear that you don’t care then why should I?
2am: I figure out the answer. Because you’re the only one I could feel. Because I’ve tried fucking my way out of an empty heart but it doesn’t work. Because none of them could make me feel what you did with your mere words.
3am: I’m praying to every god I can think of to bring me a time machine.
4am: My phone rings and I know it’s you because….I don’t even have a reason how. All I know is that it’s you. I answer the call because I don’t see logic when it comes to you. I don’t see reason, or ways, or plans. And it hurt like shit when you chose logic. But then again, what’s the point? I’ll continue not seeing logic and you’ll continue following it.
4:05am: I invite you in.
6am: You’ve set me back to square one. Whatever little progress I’d made has been reduced to dust. You leave without a word. You don’t even look back. You don’t even say my name once. I make a solemn vow to myself to never let you in again, knowing that whenever, if at all, you call again, I’ll go running back to you.
7am: I laugh at myself. My arrogance got the better of me. What I thought could never break me has shattered me to pieces. I get up from the bed and start getting ready to spend yet another day in this mayhem we call “world”
The ordeal of being perceived 