The coffee was cold.
I told myself it was just another breakup.
People survive them all the time. They drink, they cry, they move on.
But when he left, something inside me refused to breathe. I'm 20, living in a small rented apartment near campus. Alone. Independent. Supposedly capable of handling life.
But not this.
Day 1 without him.
I hate writing that. I hate counting. But if I don't, I'll drown.I picked up my pen, hands trembling, and stared at the blank page.
The words came on their own.

If I can't have you, no one can.
If you leave me for someone else... I would... I don't know what I'd do.

I paused.
Read the words.
Shivered.

I didn't mean them.
Or did I?
And every time I closed my eyes, I saw him moving on, someone else holding his hand, someone else laughing at his smile.
I couldn't let that happen.
I wouldn't.

So I wrote.
And I wrote.

I wonder,
What if the words had power?