As it turns out, it did not all go away. Who could have predicted that?

Instead of talking about it like every other normal person, I'll write it all down instead. That's the only thing I trust at this point. The thin piece of paper that could crumble in my hands with the stains of black ink is my savior.

I used to write for her.

I put her into all of these scenarios and painted her in a pretty light. She was always so magical for me.

So perfect.

I always claim I want the truth but when it's given to me, I realize that I never do want the truth. I pushed in that restaurant for something that I would have been better off not knowing, and I hurt her. I downplayed my emotions because I can't be the fool in this situation.

I would never allow that. Someone else had to take the fall and play the role of the loser, and it had to be her.

I know how selfish it sounds. I just have to protect myself somehow though.

I recall a few months ago we were obsessed with our growing love, and now she can't even respond to my messages. I still see myself in her arms and doing everything we never got to do.

Back then, I would have torn myself apart into a million tiny pieces if she had asked me to.

But that's the thing.

She didn't even have to make the request. I just did it anyway because I was desperate.

Is she to blame? Or am I the one at fault because I was so naive?

I suppose there's not much use thinking about that though, it won't make a difference what the answer is now. I just wish that the pure black ink pouring from these pages below me could be enough to keep me from going insane.

They're a distraction. That's all. They're not a savior or the keeper of my secrets. 

I don't think I like Delilah much right now, or myself. Not that Delilah would even care. 

In that moment, I receive a text from Rowan, telling me that they hope we can talk soon. 

I hope we can too. I hope I can clear this whole mess up for them. I hope they realize that they deserve someone who cares. 

Because I don't. 

I don't have the time or the space or the energy to give my love to any other person. I'm running low on love for myself anyway. I'm too drained from everything I've done. I've given so much of myself before just to be dispensed of so easily. 

I know I go back and forth with myself about relationships and Delilah, but I think I can settle with the fact that I'm done with this. I can focus on myself. I should focus on myself. 

Because I know that I could use some work. 

I text Nina asking if she has time to listen to me complain, but she's with her boyfriend and his parents. I tell her no worries and good luck, and she simply 'hearts' the message. 

She's been having the time of her life, nothing can go wrong for her. And, I'm happy for my best friend. I really am. 

I just wish that things could be easier for me right now. I mean, college hasn't exactly been the most sparkling transition I thought it would be. 

Yeah, I met Delilah again. And what good did that do me? We broke up in like two seconds and I would have been better off not knowing what could have been. All I did was start drinking and re-living all my worst fears. At least I have my grades, but those somehow don't bring me as much satisfaction as they did back in high school. 

Nothing really does. 

And that's my own fault for setting my expectations too high for everyone, including myself. 

When I text Rowan back and tell them that I'm free anytime, they respond immediately and ask if I can go to their room. I wish it could be more a public location so that it's less awkward when I let them down, but I'll accept whatever it is that they want. 

They're too optimistic and kind and honest for someone like me. 

Rowan is the kind of person to help someone out in any moment they need. They were practically my tutor all of last semester in class, and they never once complained. They're so caring of others in any moment. 

I've liked spending time with them, they're always sharing funny stories about their extended family members and providing real stories about forgotten moments in history with me. They can carry the conversation whenever I'm feeling dull and they don't mind. I don't want this to ruin our friendship, will it? 

When I make it to their front door, decorated with colorful posters about all the clubs they're part of and name tags with different fonts, I'm hesitant to knock. 

But, I don't even have to. It's like they sense me, and they open the door up for me at that second. When I give them a questioning glance, they simply remark, "I can recognize your footsteps."

I laugh, and tell them, "wow, I didn't know that my footsteps were special to you."

They smile uneasily, unsure of what my tone can indicate for the future they've made up for us in their head, but say, "everything about you is special."

The flirting is going to make this a lot harder to deal with. They don't even take a second to breathe after they close the door behind me and we both sit down on their blue-covered bed, asking, "so, I told you how I feel about you. How do you feel about me?"

That's a hard question with an even harder answer. It's one that will hurt them, it's one I don't want to share. 

Besides, looking at them, I definitely wouldn't mind making out with them. I could just make them happy. And it wouldn't be the worst thing for me to do. 

Their eyes are so hopeful, and I can't deal with hurting another person right now. 

 I could picture myself getting closer to them, pulling off their green button up shirt and slowly watching them take off the rest of their clothes. I can imagine myself directing their face up to me to even out the three inches in height difference, kissing them with the same passion that I envision they must feel toward me. I can see myself pushing them back onto their bed and getting on top of them to continue this pattern of mistakes I've made. 

So, I do it. 

I do all of it and more.

It'll be even harder to break this off, but it's alright. I'm also doing this for myself.