Band-aides

July 2. .Sunny.

I don't know how to deal with this. All I know is that I want to be alone.

I don't want his help.

Somehow I think that if I lock myself up, everything will just float away. But I still feel it. Loneliness is still whispering in my ear, tears are still effortlessly dripping on my exam papers. Desperation is still sliding down my back like a block of ice. It's hurting me so much. But I want to be fair. I want to go through this myself. I know that once I talk to him, I'll just spill my pain everywhere. On him. On myself. I don't deserve his help. I don't want him to bend down, and help collect my fallen pieces because I didn't help him all those times either. I'm not worth his time, or his care. But where do I run...who do I run to...

I'm cold. I'm tired. I'm alone.

I want his warmth. His touch.

I would stare at my history papers. Blank. My head would just wander around, with no destination. I'm trying so hard to stop crying, to stop drifting. But I can't. I would purposely disconnect myself from him, and he's still on my mind. I just want to escape. I just want to tell him how much it hurts, and how much I miss him. But what right do I have...and what does that do but make him worry...

Talking to him makes me miss him. Being away from him makes me miss him. Nothing is working. It's completely pointless.

"Just so awesome...seven months already," he says.

"Doesn't feel like it."

"Longer or shorter?"

"Shorter. You probably think it's already really long and exhausting," I joked.

"I guess..."

'I guess'? What does that mean...Is it actually exhausting for him? Is it too late to make it up afterall...

Tears and wounds have been covered up. But it's still being found. I don't want him to help. I don't want his guidance. He's already tired. And it's all my fault. I made this journey long and exhausting for him...There is no way to redeem myself. All I can do is leave myself isolated. Away from him. Separated from my selfishness.

When will this phase end...when will I understand that no matter how many times I cry, he's never going to appear out of my dreams, and into my reality. I'm doing all I can to suppress it. The need. The wish. The hope. But it's still leaking. It's starting a flood.

But that's what band-aides are for right? To cover up the wound, and allow it to heal in disguise.

But why isn't mine working...