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I’ve always wanted to create beautiful things. Whether it be writing or drawing, I wanted to make something beautiful with my own 2 hands. I gave up on writing after a few years, but held onto visual art. I wanted to be a painter. I wanted to paint flowers and the warmth they carry in each petal. I wanted to create something I could never be.
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If I knew I was going to die alone, I would’ve left behind beautiful paintings.
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But instead of painting, I’m in a studio, coding a game assignment that won’t matter in a few days. In this moment, this assignment is keeping me sane. Something about, “Work to keep yourself distracted.” After our text conversation, she said she was going to call me soon. Soon meaning tonight. She doesn’t get out of class until 7. It is currently 6:46.
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I decide that the coding assignment doesn’t matter anymore, as it’s not distracting me enough. I pack up my stuff and head back to my dorm. I mentally prepare myself for this phone call as I’m walking. What if she notices? What if she finds out? What if she asks me why I’m being distant? What would I say? These questions cycle in my head and I’m suddenly back in my room.
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I meet eyes with the jaguar. He seems to know what I’m nervous about. The jaguar somehow always knows what I’m feeling at any given time. Sometimes he leaves me alone, sometimes he doesn’t. I see him rise from his usual lazy position and figure this time he isn’t.
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“So, you’re just accepting this? What happened to trying?”
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I plop down on my bed, “There’s not much I can do anymore. It’s been 2 years already. There’s no use in trying to force it.”
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“No, whatever happens to you WILL lead back to me. Trying a final time won’t hurt.”
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My phone vibrates on its place on my desk. I get up to see the caller ID and my heart wavers. I laugh lowly, finding my one-sided nerves to be a but ridiculous. I swipe the screen and put the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
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“Hey, you’re alive!” It’s a but muffled. She must have just gotten out of class.
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“Are you leaving now? It’s a bit late, right? Be careful on the train.”
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“Yeah, my professor kept us a bit longer than usual to talk about her trip to France. As if I care,” she says jokingly.
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“At least you’re out now. It isn’t dark yet.”
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“I didn’t call you to talk about how dark it is outside, now did I? Where have you been? I text you and the conversation lasts maybe a few minutes before you have to go.”
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I grimace, “Well, you know I’m always busy with school stuff. I barely have time to talk to anyone these days.” My excuses are so predictable.
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“Yeah, yeah. So, tell me, what’s been going on? Did you finish with midterms?”
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“Yeah, midterms are done and over with now.”
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“So, you can hang out soon? I’ve been wanting to see you.”
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Comments like that make my heart hurt. She tortures me the more she talks to me. She says she misses me and I tell her I miss her too. My heart is torn to shreds as we continue because I know she doesn’t mean it the way I do.
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“Are you free next week? Do you think we can meet up? I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”
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“Um, you can’t tell me over the phone?” I chuckle after, to make it seem like I was joking.
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“It’s better to say it in person, honestly.”
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I fidget a bit, “What, are you going to confess to me or something?” I really hope so.
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She giggles, “No, it’s just important. Do you think you can meet me in front of my school next Wednesday?”
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Wednesday is D-day, “Sure why not.” Now that I know she won’t tell me what I need to hear, not showing up for our meeting will help her find out quicker about my death.
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“Great! Oh shit, my train is here. Listen, I’ll text you the time. And please, text me to let me know you’re alive! Love you! Bye”
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“Yep, I will. Bye!”
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The line cuts and I bring my phone down. I stare at it for a little bit, not wanting to have hung up in the first place. My eyes well up, knowing I couldn’t say I love her back. My friends always say they love me, but in the familial way. But when she says it, I don’t feel loved. I fight the tears and bring my hands to my head to cover my eyes. Dread builds in my stomach and the world feels suffocating. I wish to die sooner or for the building to cave in. My shoulders begin to shake as I fall apart on the floor of my dorm room. The jaguar stays where he is, not saying anything. He owes me that, at least.48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqg2kx9T6FX
