Emotional Boys 2000

35

A.N. ALMOST THREE THOUSAND WORDS OF UTTER DEPRESSION!

Tears threatening to soften my harsh expression, I feel the temperature of my body dip with the acknowledgment that I've done a horrible thing to him. My throat feels dry, threatening to break out in a panicked sob as I turn around, staring at the rest of the vacant bathroom.

I should have said yes.

I should say yes.

I'm frustrated that his characterization of me is correct. I'm frustrated that I've worked so hard to get where I am yet I'm not the least bit satisfied with what I've made of myself.

I feel pained by the look on his face, as if I had broken his heart into a million pieces, tossing him to the side and considering him worth next to nothing.

I need to find him. I need to tell him I've changed my mind.

Releasing my painfully tight grip on the now uncomfortably warm marble slab of the bathroom counter, I run my hands through my freshly gelled hair, I bite my lip nervously, balling my fists, nails digging into the skin of my palms.

I'm frustrated with myself. I've never wanted to hurt him. Not over a stupid job, meanwhile he's pretty much the only thing that brings me happiness. How fucking stupid of me.

I'm quick to run out of the bathroom, looking around frantically, using all my power to not slam my fist against a wall, watching the dry wall cave in around my already damaged knuckles.

Upon entering the elevator, my nerves only spike, feeling the time waiting is slowing me down sufficiently. I know full well that heading down the stairs would take ten minutes longer, but the dormant movement of my body tries to convince me otherwise.

The doors open in front of me, tearing me from my thoughts as I look at the crowded lobby, full of happy energy, people on vacation, peacefully oblivious that there's those around them that might be utterly terrified of loosing everything they love.

At least... there's one person terrified.

I run through the hoards of people, those in line to check in, those also heading to the bar, those on their way out, and those just lounging around... mingling.

Staring at the large glass casing of alcohol behind the confines of the bar, my eyes wandering through the large amasses of people, sending waves of gut wrenching panic as I don't seem to flag him down at all.

Where is he? Did he go somewhere else?

No, no it's fine, it's just really crowded in here. Maybe he's in the bathroom... yeah, I'll wait a little bit... look around some more...

My eyes dart around in a frantic mess, shooting from corner to corner, up and down, at ever booth, every stool, until my eyes catch on to the one I want to talk to, coming out of the men's washroom with a...

Girl on her arm...

I'm sure it's nothing... He wouldn't do anything this crazy... We're still together... I just need to tell him I'm going to move to Detroit.

He... wouldn't just fuck around with a girl to get back at me...? Well... I... I don't know if that's even true...

He doesn't notice me, dragging her body over to the bar and pressing her back up against it, hailing for a bartender while seemingly laughing along with her before he presses his lips to her neck, over and over and over.

Again, again, again, down to her cleavage, making me wish I could puke, my heart longing to tear my screaming guts out, smearing the blood all over my face as I hold it, eyes opening the floodgates of endless angry tears.