Point of You - A Collection of Short Stories

Warm and Happy

You watch your phone light up for the third time in the past five minutes. You sigh. You look at what the message says but you don't open it. You know what will happen if you do.

You love her, you do. But sometimes, she's too much to handle.

You feel bad for thinking that. Her girlfriend killed herself and you're angry you have to listen to her cry about it. You move on from things quicker than she does and that's okay. That's not what frustrates you. What frustrates you is how she does nothing to help herself yet complains she's miserable.

"I wish I were happy," she says. "Maybe I just don't deserve to be."

You sigh. Your chest burns. This is the fifth time she's said this week. It's Wednesday. You're angry, but you're gentle with her.

"Of course, you deserve to be happy. Everybody does."

"Maybe."
"Not maybe. You deserve it."

"Yeah, ig."

You don't respond. You have your read receipts off. You put your phone down next to you. You hold your head in your hands and you want to scream.

You pick up your phone again. You type out a message.

"If you're so happy with being unhappy, why do you complain about it? And if you aren't content being miserable, then do something about it. Sitting there and moping about it isn't going to get you anywhere. It will just leave you in a deeper hole and then you'll complain about how you don't know how you got there with the shovel in your left hand."

You delete it.

You type out a new message.

"Sorry, but I have to go. Talk later."

You're sorry but you're also not. You feel bad for leaving her in her hole. But then again, if she won't do anything to get out of it, why should you try to help her? You can't fix someone who's determined to stay broken.

You know she isn't attention-seeking. But you know she stays broken because she likes the sympathy she gets. She likes it when you comfort her. If she was healthy, you wouldn't have to comfort her anymore. She is terrified of being independent.

She put you as her main beneficiary on her will. You found it weird. But you're her best friend and she doesn't have anyone else.

She has feelings for you. You know this. You've known this for a while.

Her timing with her messages are convenient. As soon as you unlock your phone, a message from her comes in. As soon as you walk in the door from the park, a text comes in. She's asking if you're home yet. If this happened only a few times, you wouldn't be worried. But this happens regularly. Combined with everything: the will, the feelings, the dependency, you think that maybe she did something. Maybe she put something on your phone. You made a joke about it once when your battery was dying too fast. Your battery health was normal. 98%. So you made a joke that someone put spyware on your phone. She was nervous. Or at least that's how she was acting. Her voice got higher pitched, her voice was wavering, she was talking faster, and laughing a little at the end of her sentences. You felt she was over explaining. But you think you're just being paranoid. You don't tell anyone.

She's a writer. She often shows you her poems. A lot of them are sad. A lot of them are good. Raw. She's good. But you don't like them. She's written about you. She's written about love. She's written about her dependence on others without even knowing it. You like some of them. Some of the genuinely emotional ones. But most of them are too frustrating. You read it and you know why she's writing about it. It's her coping mechanism. But you also read about it and wonder if she's ever listened to a word you said. You wonder that when you read her poems and you wonder that when you read her texts.

Youre not just angry with her because she doesn't help herself. Or at least it doesn't look like she does. You're angry with her because she reminds you of you. Of how you used to be.

Uptight.

Defensive.

Dependent on others.

Desperate for love and approval.

Stubborn.

Doesn't listen to advice.

Likes being broken.

This is how you used to be. So how could you be angry with her?

Because you know it's possible to get out of that mindset. You just have to want to. You have to want to change. But she doesn't want to. Yet she says that she does. She says she's trying. Maybe she is. But they're half assed attempts at best. She tries it for a day, maybe a week, and when it doesn't work she gives up. And then she goes back to you to complain how miserable she is. It's a never ending cycle. You want to help her. You want to fix her. It would be like fixing a part of yourself. Fixing a part of you that you're ashamed of. Maybe if you fixed her, you could move on from your shame and guilt. Instead, you take it out on your writing. Because you know you can't fix her. You know you have to move on from who you used to be. You're not them anymore. You're you now, not you then.

But even knowing that, you still want to fix her so desperately. You don't even know why. You know you can't fix anyone. You know they have to want to be fixed. You know she has to fix herself. But for some reason, you can't let her. You can step back and let her do her thing. You know what will happen if you do. Or, at least you think you do. You think if you're not the one to fix her, she won't be fixed properly. Or at all. You know she will just look for someone else to get sympathy from. You also know that no matter how hard you try, no matter how much advice you give her, no matter how many hours you spend listening to her, you won't fix her. You can't. You accept it. But you can't deny the urge. You can't push away those thoughts.

You're not consciously trying to fix her. It just happens. You try not to but you just can't help yourself.

You wish you could move on from her. You wish you could love gourself enough to cut her off. You know the amount of stress she causes you yet you can't cut her off. You've done it before. You've done it with people less stressful. But maybe that's why. Their case wasn't as bad so you weren't scared to cut them off. You're scared of cutting her off, though. You're worried about her hurting herself. She assures you she won't but you don't believe it. You want to, but you don't. You just want happiness. You don't want to have to constantly check if she's okay or answer all of her messages.

You told her you want space. That you want to text less. But did she listen? No. She kept texting you. She texts you just as much as she usually does. It's frustrating. It's stressful. But you can't say anything. You can't bring yourself to do it. You try to. You go to type out the message.

"I want space. I want you to text me less. I told you this already but you didn't listen."

You think it sounds mean so you add

"I'm not saying this to be mean. I'm saying this to set boundaries. Boundaries you need to respect."

You delete all of it. You never say what you want to say. It's left unsaid.

You want to cut her off but you never do. The stress is left to build up.

You tell yourself that not all stories have a perfect ending. That you don't always get what's best for you. Maybe you should just deal with it. Maybe you shouldn't cut her off. You can't cut off everyone and everything that stresses you out. But you should when you can. You should love yourself enough to take care of yourself. But you can't. You just can't bring yourself to do it. It's not out of loyalty. It's out of fear. Fear of her hurting herself. Despite all of her reassurances, you're still scared.

You told her once that if she's warm and happy in a pile of shit don't complain that it stinks. Now you're the one warm and happy complaining that it stinks.