I Almost Do

‘And I hope you know that/Every time I don’t/I almost do’

You left me. Here one day, gone the next. I knew you would leave one day, but I wished it weren’t so soon. But you did. After you left I was left alone, broken, shattered into pieces just lying silently on the ground. Time passed and I gradually picked up those pieces, but you hurt me so bad, so deep I couldn’t take another chance. I didn’t want to feel broken again. So just remember this, every time I don’t, I almost do.

So here, the tragic tale of Isabelle Williams and Cameron Richards. Their story might seem lost and broken to the bits, but after all, life was built to have mistakes made out of. Its seems we all make them, but the thing is, we learn and fix our mistakes and forgive other people for theirs. But before that, you need learn to take risks, even after the mistake, even after the worst, even after you are hurt. You need to take a chance. And that my friend, is what Isabelle did not do.


1. ⓞⓝⓔ


Chapter One

I bet this time of night your still up/I bet you’re tired from a long hard week/I bet you’re sitting on your chair by the window looking out at the city and I bet sometimes you wonder ‘bout me.

You stared out at the flickering lights of the big city and stirred the lukewarm cup of coffee which had been sitting in your hands for hours. You knew you should be asleep but every time you rested your head and close your eyes, you could never fall asleep. You felt tired yet wide-awake at the same time. You could hear cars rushing by and the sound of traffic filled your ears as you gazed at the night sky. The stars weren’t visible at all but the lights from the buildings were more than enough to replace them.

Your iPhone vibrated with a faint buzz from the kitchen table, a metre away from the comfy armchair you rested in. With a heavy sigh you slowly rose and reached for the phone. Your father had sent you a text message.

‘I’m sure you did well in ur exams this week, study hard son! I knew Oxford was right for you. :)’

You sighed and placed your phone on the table without replying. It was all your father could think about. You thought you had made the right decision, leaving the small town you used to live in and moving to the big world of urban London. But in those days you felt as if it was all a big mistake.


After you left I was sure you would leave and forget. Forget about me, forget about Elliot and Megan, forget about us. But I was wrong. You must have thought of me sometimes, more than I ever would have imagined. You texted me every day and sent long emails which I read, longing to hear your voice and see your face every time, but you would never know. Because I never replied.


And I just wanna tell you, it takes everything in me not to call you. And I wish I could run to you and I hope you know that every time I don’t. I almost do, I almost do.

I scanned through the pictures with a slight smile almost reaching my face. The light of my phone illuminated the bedroom as the doors were shut and the curtains pulled closed. Photos of you and I stared back at me. We looked so young, so free, so… happy. My smile was wiped away as I thought of how naïve I was. I quickly shut the photo gallery application and my home screen appeared. All I could think about was us, or really what we were. My digital clock flashed 1:11 am as tears trickled down my cheeks in little rivulets, unnoticed.

My fingers found their way to the contacts button and scrolled down, looking for Megan’s contact. My contacts were ordered by the order the numbers were added. Your number was right beneath hers. I slowly broke down again, silently sobbing into my blankets, hoping to find some way to comfort myself. I really wanted to call you, right there and then, but I couldn’t. To be truthful I was afraid. But just seeing your face in pictures or hearing one of your old favourite songs would make me want to just run into your arms, except I always knew you would never be there. But every time I didn’t call you, reply to your texts or email you, just remember I almost do.


I bet you think I either moved on or hate you, ‘cause each time you reach out there’s no reply. I bet it never ever occurred to you that I can’t say hello to you and risk another goodbye.

You tapped your pencil on the mahogany desk and bit your lip.

You think, she hates me, she’s moved on, she hates me, she’s moved on. You couldn’t seem to concentrate on the textbook in front of you. It had been two months since you left and you had successfully spammed my text inbox multiple times.

Why hasn’t she replied yet? You think impatiently now tapping your foot. In fact, you think, she hasn’t replied to me for the past two months! It’s obvious she’s moved on. Your mouth forms a frown as you ponder. Wait, she can’t have, it was for forever… maybe she’s busy, you contemplate as if convincing yourself. Yeah, that must be it.

I wanted to assure you though; I longed to talk to you, to hear your voice… but you hurt me. You hurt me so hard, so deep, I couldn’t even risk saying hello again. And it wasn’t because I no longer loved you, I just couldn’t bear another goodbye.

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