@sign story

Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.

Transcript: 

“Oh how? We actually met through tumblr…which is really weird like whenever I tell people about that their like hmm…I dunno…. but I–we have five minutes? Okay, really fast! So I was on tumblr one day and then I was looking up a cool thing and she was like “Hey dude whats up?” and I was like “Yo gurl wassup” and then it was like “oh-awesome! That’s pretty cool” *laughs* No- She had drawn some stuff of me a long time ago and then we just got talking, I can’t remember what we got talking about first, i’m horrible. Um and then I needed- I asked her if I could use one of her pieces of art in a thumbnail for a fan game that was done so we just got talking through that! And then she was doing a livestream on her birthday and i—she was drawing me in it so I stopped in… creepily…. And just said “Hey, you better draw me pretty” as a joke and she just said “Go fuck yourself” so I was like—and so I was like “Sah dude!” So it’s not like no typical fairy tale, I didn’t ride in on a white horse brandishing a blade! Thanks! I’m such a Casanova right?”

Looking back, I can’t remember the truth. I blew everything out of proportion so I could feel the hurt and betrayal and write about it in vivid detail. It was my own method of torture. My own undoing; and I enjoyed every second of it.
—  c.j.n.