In a shocking moment of impulse, she picks up her phone. Glory be, he responds. Hearing anything from him is like a stabbing to the heart, but it feels better than the torturing silence that’s been going on for almost a month now.

I always plan what I’m going to say. Scenarios are played out inside my poor, fragile head. Reality, though, is always worlds apart. So, this time, I made no plan. There was nothing, then, to let me down.

It was cold and bitter like everyday of this long, cruel winter. I shot my words out of the gun of impatience and frustration I’d been holding on to for some time now. Take your stuff, I don’t want it anymore. I’ve been released from this binding of guilt, no longer going to tiptoe around you until you are ready. I’m done waiting.

Have fun, he says. Well, I can see he’s really improved his attitude. Honestly, it’s time to grow up. Little by little, my sympathy wears down. You are bringing back the Jekyll in me. Why the fuck do you always do that?

Maintain composure. I am being reasonable. I tried all I could, now I think it’s fair to say, it’s time to move on. Would I like to think there’s still a chance? Yes. Do I still feel pangs of hope and despair? Absolutely. Does it make me almost sick to my stomach? Of course. So why, really, should I put myself through this any longer? A month may be a brief period of time in accordance to the span of life and everyday happenings, but a month of longing and complete desolation from someone you care about; it grows long and impossibly never-ending.

The conclusion. I will not, and cannot understand the fickle human nature some people carry. If you care about someone, it is not easy to let them go. You do not let them go. You cannot let them go.

Anger comes next.