Chest tightens, the rib cage contorts and squeezes out my last breath. Like woken up by a bad dream, I shoot open my eyes finding myself clasps in a fetus form. A pillow is held tight beneath me, half a blanket stretched around my waist sprouts out across the floor.
What is this wretched feeling?
The room echoes with a repeated media tune I forgot to switch off on my pc before I dozed off on the floor among the piles of pillows on a fur carpet. Half the ceiling curtain is pulled wide apart, the sky outside leaks absolute darkness.
I sit up, attempting to catch my breath but the tightness forces air out of my lungs. I grab hold of my chest, tracing my palm to my throat as through by physically doing so, it will soothe my discomfort. It does not.
Anger still rings inside me, follows by sadness, disappointment. Thoughts of him cloud my mind, what he said and what he didn’t say. The room breathes loneliness. I gather my legs and pull the blanket up to my shoulder. Yet coldness entraps me, runs through my heart and veins; and the room became bigger, quieter, and lonelier, till I was this little speck, with only few centimeters of lights around my barrier.
This conflicting feeling I have, hatred and love; didn’t they say these two emotions share a thin line? Oh how much negativity I have towards him now, how I wish I can scream, shout and spit vile words at someone, at something, at him? Strangely, unwillingly, inevitable even, I miss him. So dearly I care profoundly about what he feels, say; clinging onto each word he had spoken or didn’t speak.
I care. That’s the thing, I miss him and I still care. How disgusting.
Need someone to make me feel better. Who? Best friend? Family? Random friends? No one fits the title now. I am in no mood to speak to anyone, nothing can make me feel better, not even a tub of delicious creamy and rich Royce chocolate imported from Japan. I want him, and I hate him, I don’t want to see him nor talk to him, at least not now, I have too much wrath in me. Dear god how I crave for his voice, his presence, his embrace.
Suddenly I understand the meaning of the song “Hate that I love you” by Rihanna. The only person that can make me feel better, the one person in the entire world that can lift me spirit, take away the tightness on my chest, and make me feel warm and fussy; is the same person that made me so angry, so full of hatred, so I-want-to-strangle-and-kill kind of feeling.
Midnight arrives, phone rings. I look over, his name appears on the screen. Hatred fills me up, and I ignore it.
It rings once.
I won’t pick up.
Maybe.. just maybe. No! I will probably scream at him.
Soften… I hold up the phone, but look blankly at the screen, at the caller, at his name. And wait.
It stops. A sense of relief rushes over me.
And then it stops for good. I look at the now silent phone, for a while I am reluctant to set it down. And I wait.
Two hours have gone. Phone rings.
I pick up.
All the negativities, the hatred, the fury, the I-don’t-want-to-talk-to-you-anymore, the confusion, the annoyance, everything that made me so irritated and uncomfortable the whole night sweeps off my chest, out of my body and out the window.
One word. That's all I need.