When It's Ending

It’s a Tuesday in March. You get a text. You have a suspicion. You know things are not right. 
It’s a Wednesday in March. You’ve spent your night tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. You don’t know it then, but you’ll be torture yourself for the next three days. You will text your friends and ask for advice but never take it. You will always text the person that’s causing all of this because you’re trying to fight for someone that doesn’t want to be fought for, but you’re doing it anyways. When you look back, this part of the heartache will make you embarrassed and ashamed, but that’s okay. You’re hurting and you’re doing what feels right for you at that moment. 

It’s a Thursday in March and it’s 12pm and you haven’t left your bed. Sometimes you get up to make tea, but it never touches your lips. You don’t have any interest in eating, let alone drinking. You start to feel like a shell of a human; a shell that won’t stop crying, or thinking, or feeling. You’ll spend your day with Leslie Knope and her friends. You’ll be comforted with their words. You’ll forget about what’s going on sometimes. You’ll remember and begin to cry. You will cry so much that you won’t know how to stop. A day later you’ll cry so much that you won’t be able to cry anymore. Your mum won’t know what to do. You’ll only sleep in rooms that other people are in; you’ll fall asleep on the couch in your living room and your mum will cover you with a blanket. You’ll wake up at 3am and she’s sleeping on the chair next to you. She doesn’t know what to do but she’s there if you need her. This breaks your heart a little more; you can’t believe you’re letting someone make you so weak after she taught you to be so strong.

It’s a Friday in March and you decide to go to school. You’ve been choosing your bed over class because you don’t know how to explain how you’re feeling. You look at yourself in the mirror — you see a girl that looks like she hasn’t slept in two days. Pretty accurate. You put on some clothes and walk to the bus stop in the cold. You think about turning back and crawling back into bed. You don’t. When you get to school, you’re haunted by memories. You think about getting back on the bus and going home. You don’t. No one asks you how you are except when a boy in class pulls you aside and sits you down. You’ll talk for three hours on a bench. He’ll tell you that you should fight for things and you’ll start crying while saying you can’t fight for someone that doesn’t want to be fought for anymore. You decide that you’ve fought enough internal battles for the day and you go home early. You run a bath to feel better but as soon as your body touches the water, all you do is cry. Your older brother will be home and he won’t know what to do. Later you’ll find out that he called you mum because he knows how heartache feels. You will remember how the cold water felt on your skin for the rest of your life.

It’s a Saturday in March. Today you try going to work. You’ll get there and someone will ask how you are and you’ll hold it together.. Until a co-worker, who is like a second father, knows something is up. He will give you a hug and remind you that anyone that doesn’t want you is not someone you want to be with. You won’t believe his words for a few months. You get picked up by a friend after work. You go eat pancakes. In a year, you won’t be friends with her anymore, but you’re so thankful that she was there when you needed her. God, you needed her. You run into the boy you talked to for three hours and you think about how you should’ve chose him. He wouldn’t be leaving you hanging — he wouldn’t be torturing you. He tells you to keep fighting. You go home. You try to sleep.


It’s a Sunday in March. You never slept but you’re trying to be positive, even if today is the agreed date where the decision of whether you’re going to be sad anymore will decide — but not by you. You think about being together is a choice two people make, but ending it is just one person’s choice. You put on a black dress. You wait. You wait. You wait. You text. You wait. He responds. It’s cold, but you still have faith. You wait. He arrives in that stupid car. In the future, you’re going to swear to yourself to never date anyone with that car ever again. You walk to the car. You can see your breath. You smile, so does he. You put your head on his shoulder. This situation has happened numerous times but this time, it’s different. You realize how uncomfortable you are. You have never felt so distant or more like a stranger before. This is not someone you know anymore. 

It’s a Sunday in March. This is when it’s ending.

It’s a Sunday in March. He drives. He buys you your favourite drink. You think maybe my suspicions were wrong — who would buy me my favourite drink before hurting me? You’re wrong. You’ve been wrong about a lot of things the past few days. You’re going to hurt. You drive to a parking lot you have to pass every day. You will think of how small you felt in this moment every time you pass it from then on. You try to reason with him; you explain how just because one thing isn’t working, it shouldn’t end. You let him know that you had a suspicion, but you know he wouldn’t do that to you. This will be a wrong assumption and you will regret being so kind. You will talk for over an hour. There is nothing left to be said. All you think about is everything else that ends when two people are over.

It’s a Sunday in March. You will kiss one more time — for the last time. You’ll think about that for awhile and what a last kiss means. He says maybe you’ll both revisit this relationship again in the future. At first, this sounds hopeful. A chance in the future. You’ll hold on to that for a little while. Four months, to be exact. Soon enough it’s July and a boy you just met in bar kisses you and makes your head spin. You’re reminded of how good it is to be kissing someone for the first time. This is when you remember how wonderful kissing is and how much you prefer the first kiss over the last kiss. You’ll be completely entranced by this person and he will feel the same about you. This is when you realize why you will never do what he suggested; you deserved better. But when it’s ending, all you want is for that last kiss to not be the last kiss. 

It’s a Sunday in March. You get dropped off. It’s sunny. You take this as a positive sign. Things that end on a sunny day must be a sign for better things to come, you’ll repeat to yourself. The fact that you feel weirdly calm makes you weary, but you’re really just numb. Really numb. As you walk up your driveway, you’ll breathe in the icy air and decide that you won’t cry about this anymore. You enter the house. Your mother has been waiting with baited breath for your arrival home. She’ll ask you what happened. You’ll tell her. She will say you deserve better. You don’t know why people keep saying that. You won’t believe her words for a few months. 6 months later she’ll tell you she never liked him. This should’ve been your first sign.
It’s a Sunday in March. You sit in bed going over all of the lasts. You’ll think about all of the other last things that you didn’t realize they would be lasts. You’ll think about the last movie you watched and how it was a weird coincidence that it was American Beauty. You can still taste white hot chocolate, your favourite drink, on your lips. You won’t be able to stomach that drink until the next winter because the taste will remind you of this moment. But in the future, you drink it again and it tastes better than you remembered; it tastes a little bit like revenge.
 
It’s a Sunday in March. You have tea with your mother. You watch Border Security, because why not? You laugh. The realization begins to set in. You aren’t with your person anymore. This will take a few months to adjust to, but you adjust. You try to remember the good memories until you are made a fool again. Your suspicions are made clear. This is when you realize that you can’t stop people from leaving when they are already long gone. 

It’s a Friday in April. 

You can count on both hands how many days it’s been since that last kiss. You’re sleeping again but you’re still hurting. You let things be. You don’t communicate whatsoever. You think about the future. You think about maybe being friends, because two people that shared all of that shouldn’t be made strangers. You find out your little sister saw him with another girl. You are ready to retaliate, but you stay silent. Dime a dozen, you will tweet and laugh to yourself. You have never been so angry and you have never been so relieved. You want nothing more than to be strangers now. It won’t be until that fall when you see him again in real life. He will avoid you and you will feel nothing but freedom. You will think about the boy you kissed in July. You will think about all of the firsts and lasts you’ve had since that Sunday in March. You are reminded that you have so many firsts to come.
 
It’s a Saturday in October. This is when it’s over.

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