Break ups Suck.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. The pain of the text is still fresh in my mind. It hadn’t even been two days. What else could be wrong?

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” I said, knowing that responding would only make tomorrow that much harder. “I’m fine.” I quickly typed out that second message before she could respond. The tears splashed down on the bright screen. I clenched the phone in my hands, watching the bottom corner, my heart thumped as I waited for those three little bubbles. Just block her. Get it over with. She’s not coming back… but what if she does? That little bit of hope. The ‘I still love you,’ text from the other night, was just enough, because what if she does come back?

“Please?” Her text asked simply. “I’m sorry,” the second text chimed through.

My fingers hovered over the keypad, a cloud of emotions hovered behind my eyes. What was I supposed to say? Loving her has been nothing but pain.

“For which part?” I typed it out and sent it before I could even fully think about it.

“What do you mean?” She asked, her text coming through instantly. Did she feel the same way I did? Did she regret her decision? Was her phone shaking her hands, and her tears blurring out the words?

“Which part are you sorry for?” This time my finger hovered over the send button, before moving up to delete the message. “Nevermind, don’t worry about it,” I said instead.

“Please, talk to me,” she said. “I still love you, what’s going on?”

My fingers dug into the sides of my phone. Long-distance relationships are a bitch. What, am I supposed to tell her that if I knew the magic words that would get her back, I’d tell them to her every night? Am I supposed to say that if I knew how to get her to see herself the way that I see her, then she’d feel like the most beautiful girl in the world? Or that every second I spent not talking to her, was spent planning our lives together? Or maybe I should tell her that not kissing her every day was pain, and not holding her every night was pain that tore at me every second. I could tell her that when I look at the sky, all I can do is think of her, and there’s nothing I want more than to hold her hand and sing terribly to our favorite songs. I could tell her that I would spend every second of every day I breathe going through that pain if it meant I could still call her mine. I would go through it all if I could still wake up to those good morning texts, those rare nights of her hair in my face, listening to her snore. But I know deep down that even if I could get her back by saying all of those things, I’d be constantly scared of the next breakup text. Maybe it’s worth it if it buys me one more night. For a moment I consider typing it out and telling it all. But I took a deep breath and powered down my phone, and tried to get some sleep.