It's been months, and I'm still stuck on him.
I don't even know why — but moving on feels impossible.
Back in June, I was so desperate to talk to Tyler that I completely lost control and texted him.
I told him that I'd wait for him — even if it took him years to come back.
He replied, saying he couldn't talk online because of some issue, and his exams were close, so he was focusing on studies.
I believed him.
I prayed every single night, hoping he'd come back.
I built this entire illusion in my head — that he'd return one day.
It was nothing but delusion. And it hurt more every time I repeated that lie to myself.
The feeling of being unwanted was so suffocating that one night, I ended up hurting myself again.
Just like I used to when I was fourteen.
Pathetic, right?
I told myself it was just for attention back then — but now, it wasn't.
Now it was pain — pure, silent pain.
The kind that made me scream into pillows, cry until my eyes burned, and still feel nothing afterward.
---
Five months later
It was a Friday afternoon when I came back from my language school.
Today was fun. Our professor made us do activities like mime and drawing — interactive, creative, and actually enjoyable.
I had lunch and opened my books to study for my mid-semester exams.
Oh, and yeah — I'm in college now.
Georgetown University.
One of the best universities in America.
I always dreamed of becoming an architect, so I went for it.
It's tough — really tough — but dreams aren't meant to be easy, are they?
My exams were starting the following week — six consecutive days, no breaks in between.
I thought of revising a little, but I was exhausted.
A small nap won't hurt, I told myself.
Four hours later, I woke up feeling like I'd slept for four days straight.
I stretched, groaned, and dragged myself to the desk again.
Just as I opened my notes, my phone buzzed with a notification.
It was silent, but somehow, that vibration pulled me in.
And of course, I checked it.
But this time, it wasn't Tyler.
It was just a random group update.
I sighed in relief — and disappointment.
It's weird how your heart can crave something that once broke you.
I pushed my phone aside and focused on my notes again.
"Come on, Lizzie. You've got to get your life together," I whispered to myself.