Sleep

"I don't want to love you anymore!"

She screamed that at me, words stabbing through my hard outer shell. I was speechless. All I could do was just stand there and stare at her. We had got into a fight over something she thought mattered and I didn't. These things being my sadness. Depression. I tended to ignore it, not let it nag at me. But she couldn't keep it out of her mind. She said she wanted to help. It sure didn't seem like it though. Recently, all it seems she would do was make it worse. I actually thought things in my life were getting better. I was starting to become happy again. But, of course, life had to screw that up. Of course I can't be happy, have a good life. It's all I ever wanted. Happiness. I hadn't realized that I had zoned out and that she was expecting some sort of response from me. I honestly couldn't think of anything to say to that. Except one thing.

"Get out."

I said it softly, only loud enough for the two of us to hear.

"What?!" She shrieked, shocked at what I said.

"You said you didn't want to love me anymore. Get out. Then you won't have to."

She shot me a look filled with anger with a slight hint of sadness. I could tell that a small part of her didn't mean what she said. But it was small. She still, for the most part, truly didn't want to love me. So I was going to let her have what she wanted. It may hurt me a lot but it's probably for the best. I felt that we were drawing to an end in this relationship anyways. Things were seeming different than earlier on. A bad kind of different. I think the time when things originally started to change was about a month ago when I told her I was a self-harmer. I trusted her enough to tell her more about myself, which is rare because I never trust anyone, and so I did. She had already known about my depression and didn't really like it yet she dealt with it anyways. And so when I told her about my cutting she was partially shocked, but mainly disappointed. She ended up not talking to me for about two days afterwards. And from then on things were weird, awkward almost, between us. You would've thought that we'd have been brought closer together through my telling her. But no, of course not, we don't go by the norm. Then here we were earlier today just relaxing in our apartment when she decided to bring up the dreaded topic of my depression. Saying how disappointed she was in me. And from then on came the arguing. Yelling back and forth, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. We didn't really care though, we were too caught up with yelling at each other. Insulting. Hurting. Then the words came out of her mouth.

"I don't want to love you anymore."

Who would've thought that the seemingly perfect relationship we always showed off could have been reduced to this. After processing the words that I had said she decided to walk away. Towards our room. The place where all of our stuff was stored. I heard things being moved around and knew that she really was going to leave. That this really was the end. Within a few minutes of standing there waiting, in the same spot I had been in yelling at her, I decided to sit down since it would most likely take awhile for her to pack all her things. I felt completely numb, the full effect of tonight's events finally having its effect on me. I had hoped that it never would. I never wanted to feel anything in the form of an emotion from this point on. I was done with feelings. I heard a sniffle and looked over to see her, bags in hand, crying. She glanced at me and then looked away quickly as if something bad would happen if she was caught staring at me. She started walking to the door but stopped right in front of it and turned to look at me. I stood up and looked into her bloodshot, yet vivid, green eyes.

"I guess this is goodbye," she said in a voice only slightly louder than a whisper.

"I guess it is. Goodbye." I had replied in an extremely emotionless voice.

She looked up at me one last time and I saw all the hurt in her eyes. But then she turned around, walked ever so quietly to the door, opened it, and left. I sat back down on the couch and then everything hit me again, full force. I couldn't express what I was feeling with words. I just knew it as that one oh-so-familiar feeling. That depressed feeling. I decided to get up and walk to the empty bed in our, no, my room and laid down, hoping sleep would envelop me soon. I didn't want to be awake. The pain and the sadness would haunt me too much, not to mention the anxiety. I just wanted to sleep. I didn't care to wake up. And so I just laid there and did that. It was as if life finally decided to be kind to me for once. I never did wake up again.