Day 2 of Hell

The hole had been replaced by bricks when I woke up. It took me a while to register that I was meant to be upset this morning; it was calm and thoughtless after a night of dreaming of me and him only finding out about each others lives through facebook. But when I moved it started to hurt, like somehow I'd turned suddenly into a pro weight-lifter with abs of steel. I hit against it and it felt solid, and painful.

I'd slept right through my lectures, only waking up from my alarm telling me it was time to take my pill. A lovely reminder.

I spent my day with my sister, generally letting people know as subtly as I could - mostly texting, facebook and word of mouth. My sister helped a lot with it. I knew I wanted a change - a drastic change, and the obvious route was my hair. My sister, knowing me best, forced me to go through with the idea and got me to go get my hair done with blonde and light brown highlights. I just needed to make the change in my head physical.

It was good to be able to talk about it to a stranger without feeling like I was going to fall apart, but at the same time it makes me wonder just how much it all meant to me. Then I remember the pain, the lack of breathing, the hole and the bricks that filled it, and knew I was being stupid.

I almost laughed aloud - actually, I think I did very quietly! - when the film I was dragged to announced the main character to have the same name as my ex. I could hear my sister tentatively laughing too. "It's not my day," I said.

The film, the day out, the distractions have all helped me immensly. I'd never been more tired in my life, both mentally and physically, but now I feel wide awake, like a punp of addrenalline has been injected into my blood to help combat being alone.

I don't know how well I'll sleep tonight.

Know, the thing that keeps creeping up on me is one thought; how is he feeling? A sadistic part of me knows he is a good person but still wants him to suffer, to see him suffer, not because he's done anything wrong but because it would show that he once cared about me. In all honesty, I've been waiting for him to be hurt by me for a long time, to show I can hurt him by being hurt myself. I'm not trying to convince myself that he's sobbing, because I know in all honesty it's probably not true; I've barely seen him shed a single tear in all the time I've known him, with all the bad things that have ever happened to him. Ignorance is the hardest part; it'll take a long time for me to stop myself from wanting to reach for the phone or internet, just to ask him a few questions. Does he miss me? Does he feel bad? Does he feel guilty? Does he want me back?

I don't think I want an answer to the last one.