Love, Rubi ❦ H.S.

- thirty two -

TW: BRIEF MENTION OF A PANIC ATTACK.

Rubi Jones
March 23rd, 2018 - 3:45pm
❦

It's been 24 hours.

24 hours since Harry came knocking at my door. 24 hours since he cried at my feet like a kicked puppy.

24 hours since I've read his letter. His admission to loving me.

One may think that 24 hours isn't a very long time. But to me, it felt like I wasted away an eternity.

I did a lot of thinking, after reading what Harry wrote. I was no longer angry, or sad. Nor did I have the desire to rip his vocal chords out of his throat. Yet still, a small part of me felt a tad bit worthless.

Life likes to kick me while I'm down, I know that for a fact. But being kicked while I'm up? That's just cruel. What Harry did shouldn't have affected me as greatly as I made it out to be, but that's just how the cookie crumbled.

For the first time in my life, as Harry stood at the threshold of my apartment with a little white envelope and tears in his eyes, I was okay with being vulnerable.

I guess I can't really say that he didn't teach me a thing or two about being vulnerable— I would have never shown anybody that type of anger and frustration.

Not if I didn't care about him the way that I did.

I felt like a moron. And my emotions were all over the place, which wasn't really helping. I was like a cuckoo clock— that was stuck in a consistent loop of hourly nausea.

My bed was a mess of various items. My phone, which I had finally decided to charge to see all of the concerned messages left by my peers. A bag of pretzels, which I had dug into at about 3am this morning... and, of course, Harry's letter, which I had reread about twenty times over.

Pathetic.

The state of my apartment right now was ripped straight out of a sad, heart-breaking chick flick. I was a mess, and so was my space. But I still didn't care enough to clean it. There was only one thing on my mind, and it for sure wasn't cleaning.

Harry's words cut deeply. Deeper than any song I've heard or any book I've read— something about it was just so... emotional. I practically wanted to rip my heart into shreds over just how sickeningly honest it was.

Honestly, I never thought he had it in him. To be vulnerable, and transparent in that way. From the way I read about him online, to the way he acted towards me in the beginning, I truly didn't think he was capable of making me feel such strong emotions.

Trust me, the letter's going to stick with me. It'll be plastered in my mind like a fucking billboard. But if there's one thing I've learned about Harry in the short span of a month, it's that he's determined. And man, is he fucking honest.

Since Harry's been the only thing bouncing around in my head for the past 24 hours, I've made the mental decision to hear him out. Not necessarily to forgive him, but to give him the chance to speak his mind.

To prove to me that those words he wrote weren't all straight up bullshit.

I think I deserve it. And yes, that's selfish and I know good and well, but fucking with a person like me has it's pros and cons. I could have easily gone batshit and socked him in the jaw right then and there. But my heart, which is far too big for my tiny body, just didn't allow me to.