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There is a distant humming I can hear coming from somewhere in the kitchen. I continue to lay on my back on the floor, a soft rug separating me from the hardwood. The rain pats lowly on the windows and I hear footsteps coming from outside my door. Although the music from my laptop is blasting next to me, I can hear such insignificant things. I also keep thinking of her. I can hear my pain in the lyrics and high pitch of the guitar. These songs are speaking to my lovesick self.
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You should get up now, my brain tells me.
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I only have so much strength in my legs to stay up. My heartache over something that never happened seems to weigh me down.
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“You love her too much.”
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I look up to face him.
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“I don’t want to hear that shit right now.” I start to walk to my desk to get a better view of him.
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“You’re beating yourself up over this too much. You can’t make her love you. It’s not fair to the both of you.”
He keeps talking about things I already know. I’m getting annoyed already. Usually, it takes a while for him to get on my nerves.
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“She doesn’t even know. Let me be sad on my own. I’m not hurting her.”
At least I hope so, I think to myself.
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He looks down to give me the same look he’s given me for years. Domineering, belittling and straight up fucking annoying.
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He sighs and breaks eye contact, “I guess, but that doesn’t mean you should be miserable every day. It makes me hate her.”
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I scoff, “She didn’t even do anything for you to hate her. Stop blaming her.”
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I would hate her too if she did anything to hurt me. It would be easier to blame her for this, but I know it’s stupid to do that.
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“So I’m supposed to just sit here and watch you die? You can love someone else if you just let yourself!”
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He’s always been overprotective of my feelings. He just wants me to be happy… I think.
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I let out a sigh of my own, finally letting myself breathe correctly for a bit, “I started this, dragging someone else into my misery would be cruel.”
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I try my best to keep to myself and to bury my feelings. The jaguar always intrudes in my thoughts and finds out how I feel before I do. When he found out I made a deal with La Virgen, he made it his duty to constantly remind me what I have to do to fulfill my end of the deal.
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‘Make you first love fall in love with you in 2 years’ time. If you fail to do so, I’ll drag you down with me.’
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Her voice was like magic, she was bright and beautiful, but absolutely terrifying. My first mistake was wishing for money for my mom and sister. My second mistake was agreeing to the deal.
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“I’m going to try to summon her again.”
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He stands up abruptly, “Are you insane?! Are you going to ask for more money or for mercy? I told you she’s merciless from the start! I swear to-”
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“Relax, I’m not going to do any of that. I tried it once already,” I mumble that last sentence as to not agitate him any more than I already am.
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He plops back down in a laying position, “So what are you going to ask for this time? It better not be some dumb shit again.”
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“You’ll see when I summon her. It’s not anything huge. I promise,” I’m trying to stay on his good side for now.
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He scoffs again and disappears into my shelf. I’ll see him again soon, probably in my nightmares, where he usually hangs out.
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I hear the front door unlock and see my roommate walk in. He shakes off his umbrella on the door mat and waves at me with a small smile. He always dresses nice on gloomy days. Probably to keep his mood up.
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“Ding dong!” He usually says this to greet me or to announce his presence in the dorm. I give him a small smile, acknowledging him.
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He looks around the room and into the kitchen, “Who was that you were just talking to?”
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“I was just on the phone with someone. How was class?” I swiftly change the subject.
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He lets out a dramatic sigh while putting his coat away, “Bro, I hate that class so much. It’s enough that I failed it last semester, but the fact that I have to take it again? This school hates me.”
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I chuckle, “Well, if you ever need help, let me know. I somewhat enjoyed that class last semester.”
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He makes his way to his desk and pulls out his pipe from the top drawer. He likes pipes, “Yeah right. You complained about it so much last year,” he sits to fill the pipe for a few seconds, lights it and slowly sucks, “Want a hit? Its Friday,” he says enthusiastically.
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That’s usually an excuse I have for smoking, “You know me so well.” I take the pipe and suck.
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We sit, smoke and chat for a while, waiting for the flower to turn to ash. The fuzzy high feeling sinks in after a while and I forget my heartache. We decide to sit on the floor after a while, and I’m back to where I started.
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