You're a Cute Type of Ignorant

The next morning I woke up, wishing it was a nightmare but knowing, deep down in my heart it wasn't. I don't know when I drifted to sleep, I spent half the night outside my balcony, tears wetting my face, my neck, my shirt watching the spot where I last saw him. The spot on my cheek he kissed was cold, and I imagined the temperature stayed there even though it died out a couple of minutes later.

I washed my face, hard with tear stains, not bothering to look in the mirror. I wanted to stop thinking ultimately, but I couldn't. The words that were passed between us last night kept reforming in my head, and I went through the things I could have said to make him stay. I got back in bed, deciding today was a sick day.

"Honey, you ready?" my mom asked, peeking in. One look and she knew I wasn't going anywhere.

"You call me if you need anything, alright?" She gave me a kiss on the forehead, and I nodded.

When she left the room I looked over at my nightstand and the two notes were still there. I crumpled them up in a fist, not bothering to read them one last time. Everything was etched into my head, clearly. I wish my brain was an etch-a-sketch, so if I just shook it, things could be cleared up. If only for a minute. Tears were forming behind my eyes, and a knot came up in my throat, but I refused to cry. I had done enough of that over him, I was done being sad. It would be easier from now on, I decided.

Sometimes, if you lie enough to yourself, it becomes true.