More Like a Movie

I learned once that dreams were wishes, images thought up during sleep that came to us because they were what we wanted; what we hoped for. Apparently the dream process was a simple one and the events that occurred during the day would play a huge impact on what you dreamt about at night. Have a fun trip at the casino? You’d probably dream about winning the jackpot. Break up with your boyfriend? Well. I never quite understood that theory. I guess I didn’t see the connection between a want in your heart and the emotions you had during sleep, but lying on my back with a fresh wave of tears threatening to create a flood down my face, I realize that it makes perfect sense. I wanted Vic.

It wasn’t just any dream that I had. We were still together and I was in his arms, my favorite place to be, while he sang softly in my ear much like he did the night he told me he was falling in love with me. The way he held me, so close and protected, made me feel like I was on cloud nine and his apologies were endless, repeating his “I love yous” and admitting that he made a terrible mistake. His promises kept pouring in, the ones where he said he’d never let me go again and that no matter what problems we faced, he’d always be there. I was happy and so was he. The entire scene was overdone and romantic, but it felt so right and it felt so real that when I woke up it was like a slap to the face.

To say it was painful would be an understatement. I wanted to curl up into a ball and remain hidden from the world until the aching stopped. I was hurting everywhere from my limbs to my head to that stupid, cracking deep inside. I felt like I was falling apart, like my body couldn’t hold itself together anymore and little pieces of me were starting to break away. Soon I’d be nothing, crumbling to dust only to be blown away. Waking up and seeing that I was alone felt like a wave sweeping over and pulling me under. There was a moment where I couldn’t breathe, the empty space next to me far too cold and haunting, reminding me that he wasn’t really there. And he wouldn’t be ever again.

I wanted to curse my heart for wishing for him; curse my mind for dreaming of him, but no matter how many curses I casted, he wouldn’t come back and the pain wouldn’t stop. The hardest part is moving on, but it’s even harder when you don’t want to. I’m stupid to still have this illusion in my head thinking that Vic will do what he needs to do and then come back here to be with me, but I couldn’t let that go. My fantasies were the only things that I had left of him and maybe it wasn’t healthy, but I wasn’t ready.

This was my first break real break up with somebody. I didn’t know how to act or where to go from here. The only thing I knew was what I saw in the movies and fuck if I was doing that again. Vic calling me out was enough to put me in my place. This was real life and I had to learn to handle these things on my own. I still had a love and a passion for film, but I had to pry that out of my personal life. It wasn’t normal for me to cling to or hide behind the thought that one day my life would be this perfect cinematic masterpiece, but it had always made me feel safe. I know now that I have to take chances. And I thought I did being with Vic, but it wasn’t enough.

What stuck out the most was him saying that it was our life I was ruining. We weren’t just separate pieces in this puzzle anymore and I was being selfish. He was right about what was in front of me. It was him all along even in the beginning when I felt so lost he was the one to push my inner confidence out of me. I didn’t pay attention to the details like I should have. Every word spoken to me and every little touch meant something. He was putting his faith in me as much as I was him only I didn’t live up to my promises. In the end, neither did he.

Just thinking about Vic was exhausting. I was upset and sad and hurt and angry and because of that I wouldn’t get out of bed. Last night after he left I didn’t bother changing out of my clothes and just crawled under the covers. It’s where I’ve been all night. It’s where I plan to stay all day.

In about two minutes, Tony would be getting back from his morning class and by then I had no doubts that Vic would have told him about what happened. I only hoped that he wouldn’t try to give me some kind of pity or pep talk. I didn’t want to deal with that right now, I just wanted to mourn and cathect my energy into something else.

Like I suspected, before I got the chance to throw the blankets over my face one more, Tony entered our room. He took one look at me and frowned, a sincere look in his eyes. I appreciated the thought but really, I wanted to be left alone so I fought back an eye roll and forced a smile. Obviously not buying it, he slipped his messenger bag off his shoulder, letting it fall to the floor by the door before coming over and taking a seat on my bed. There was no avoiding this now so against my will, I moved my legs to give him space and waited for whatever drops of wisdom he was about to offer.

“I’m so sorry Kellin,” were his first words.

Usually when someone tells me they’re sorry my first instinct is to say that it’s okay, but I couldn’t do that in this case. It wasn’t okay. I wasn’t okay. So I didn’t have a response for him. I just bit my lip and nodded, shuffling up a bit so my back was on the headboard and my hands were in my lap.

My silence should have given him a hint, but either he didn’t notice or he wasn’t allowing me to grieve because he started talking again.

“I knew that you guys were having problems but I honestly didn’t think he’d break up with you,” Tony sounded just as shocked as I felt. Yeah, shocked was the right word. I said I saw the break up coming but I guess I believed Vic when he said he wouldn’t screw me over.

Again, I was silent giving a shrug instead of words because I still didn’t know what to say. I could admit that it was my fault and I practically pushed Vic into ending things, but I really didn’t want to talk about this. It was opening up a fresh wound. Shouldn’t these people want me to heal? Why is this a topic of discussion?

“I guess you can look on the bright side,” Tony said and I gave him a look of what I could only assume to be a mixture of disgust and disbelief. How on Earth was there a bright side to this? I’m all for optimism but it feels like I’ve been run over by a fucking train. There was no bright side. “Vic was your first boyfriend,” he added.

“And?” I finally spoke, words dripping with anger and judging by Tony’s face, a look in my eyes to match.

“You’ll move on and find someone new,” he replied like it was the easiest thing in the world but it was so hard to hear. Those few words had that aching in my chest back, the dull throb turning to something far more menacing. That wasn’t anything I wanted to think about. Finding someone new meant leaving Vic behind and leaving Vic behind meant forgetting and it meant that he’d do the same.

But what if he did?

What if he went to London and found someone stable, someone who could give him what he wanted and be what he needed. I didn’t think I’d be able to stand it. The thought of Vic with anyone that wasn’t me, hurt.

“How could you say that?” I voiced my opinion to Tony. “Do you not understand that I don’t want someone new? Do you really expect me to just say fuck it and hop out of bed like it’s a bright and fucking sunny day? Tony, my boyfriend just left me. He’s leaving the fucking country to get away from me. How do you think that makes me feel? I’m not even thinking about finding someone new. I can’t even get out of bed right now.”

He shook his head like I misunderstood what he was saying and perhaps I did, but I was just so mad. I had Tony here telling me that it was alright to move on. I had my heart thudding in my chest alerting me that I couldn’t do that. Either way, it was too early, too fresh, for a talk like this.

“Kell, I didn’t mean right now. I just meant that Vic mentioned London. He’s going to be gone until he comes back to graduate. It could be good for you, too.”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about this right now,” I said through watery eyes. All of these emotions were creeping back up on me and I couldn’t handle any more human interaction. When I’ve had enough time to process, I’d be okay with my friends trying to comfort me but right now I wanted my time to cry and to feel sorry for myself because it was the one thing I was allowed. “Please leave,” I whispered, not bothering to look up from my hands.

I felt his weight being lifted from the bed and kept my eyes trained in front of me as he gathered his stuff to leave. Kicking him out was the best decision for me and I’m sure he understood that. He was only trying to help and pull me out of this funk but it wasn’t the time. I’m sure that later on in the week when he and Jaime and Mike would ask me to go drinking, I’d agree, but for now I liked the solitude.

I stared at my hands for a minute, rubbing them together and cracking my knuckles. My palms felt so empty without Vic’s fingers threading between mine, the lack of contrasting skin tones when I placed my hands together made my stomach drop. What if Vic really did move on when he went away? What if he found a new hand to hold and traced their skin like he did mine, kissing each one of their fingers like he used to do to me. What if he met someone who had hazel eyes instead of blue and tan skin just like him? New lips to kiss that weren’t as soft, but still so sweet? A smaller boy who fit in his arms better or maybe a girl who had softer skin than mine? What if, when he fell asleep late at night, he wasn’t alone but tangled in the limbs of someone new, someone who wasn’t me, someone who had their head on their shoulders?

I traced the lines of my palms, reminding myself of the way Vic used to do so when he asked me about my future, desperately trying to hold in sobs as I thought of every possible scenario we could face. I wanted Vic to be happy and if that meant moving on from me then so be it. I just hope they know his favorite song and the way he takes his coffee. I hope they know that he likes old movies and would rather talk about philosophy than sports. I hope they know that when he’s in love he’s not afraid to show it; he’ll shower you in kisses and make you feel like the most important person in the room just with a look. I hope they know that when he says I love you, he means it with all his heart. I hope they know he bites his lip when he’s nervous and he prefers beer over wine. I hope they know that his favorite Christmas was his family trip to Ohio and that he once sprained his ankle trying to fly off his roof. I hope they know he’s worth more than the sun and the stars and the moon combined and I hope to God they appreciate it. I hope that if he finds someone new that they love him just as much as I do and I hope they fucking show it.

I hope that he finds what he couldn’t find in me.

And for me, I’ll just keep dreaming.