My fingers are clicking away at my computers keyboard, too quickly for me to even fully comprehend what I’m writing. The steps are in my mind. Google. Flights. Book. Pay. Leave. But when I’m staring at the ‘destination’ part of the flight-booking page, I’m unsure. I need somewhere new, somewhere fresh. Somewhere that isn’t going to remind me of him. I can’t go home, back to London where I was born. I was stupid enough to have taken him there when my mother and I visited only late last year. He went there with me. And that means that it’ll be exactly the same there. Everywhere I turn, there’ll be some reminder of him that either hits me at full force, or whispers in the back of my mind. I know this is silly, and I shouldn’t be running away. My course at University only just started, but even that hasn’t remained as a good enough distraction. Especially when being so close to the city is also being so close to him. So I’m looking for somewhere else. Somewhere new. Somewhere I can start fresh. If I were to be in another country, there will be no chance of running into him. But could I deal with the memories that would hit me from being in my home town?
“She moved back to London” my best friend Alice will tell him when he shows up at her place or calls her to ask where I am. To ask her why he can’t contact me. I hope that the end of their conversation ends with Alice slamming the door in his face. Not that he has much in means of contact to me right now. Deleting him from my Instagram and Snapchat had been a good start. But blocking him from Facebook was more therapeutic. Now there’s only access to my phone number. I considered changing my number, making it so I’ve practically fallen off of his face of the Earth just like he has so simply jumped from mine. But the amount of hassle it would be to gain contact with others is too much, that and I still have that sparkle of need for him to call me and tell me what I want to hear. That it had all been a mistake. That he regrets everything. I want to hear that he doesn’t want to really throw three years of love away like he so simply has. It won’t happen. But in case it does, he has my phone number. If I were to move away, it will kind of be like I never existed in his world. I’ll be gone. And if he truly does care, he will find a way to get to me, to tell me that it’s all been a mistake. My laptop screen goes dark from my lack of response, and in turn I’m submerged in the darkness of my room. I didn’t realise I was awake that long. Peering to my left I look at my Tardis clock. 4:03am. This is the perfect time for me to be awake. Everyone else is asleep, and other than when my mother comes to check on me, I don’t have any other communication with the outside world. Alice messages me a few times a day, making sure I’m okay. I tell her I am. Then I go back to sleep. Because when I sleep I either forget, or I’m submerged in memories of when I was happy. It’s when I’m awake that’s the problem. My finger taps lightly on one of the keys as I think. Can I really leave this place? I’ve seen it in movies, watched it in shows, read it in books. People run away from their problems and it never really works out – the real pain catches up with them. But much to my dismay, I now know that life isn’t a movie or a TV show or a book. So maybe I can run away. Huffing in thought, I grab the teapot and teacup from my bedside table and fill the tea to the rims. This is my mothers’ solution. She brings me tea like it’s water, comes in to make sure it’s still warm, and if it’s not she brings fresh tea. I thought she only did it during the day, but when I woke up yesterday at 2am, it was hot. I do like the tea, and I also like my mothers’ satisfied smile when she notices I’ve had some to drink. She thinks I’m getting better.
“Heartbreak is like the flu,” she told me once. “You rest, you sleep and you drink tea and soup. It’s just instead of a runny nose, it’s runny eyes” I had rolled my eyes at the time. It was when my older sister Sophie had her first heartbreak, but she wasn’t sad about it. Sophie had been 19 at the time, and instead of crying and lying in a dark bedroom like I currently am, she had gone clubbing. I thought she was completely okay about it. Sophie’s a brunette with bright blue eyes and a figure to die for. She’s always been the heartbreaker and pulled boys along like a dog on a leash. I never actually thought her heart had been broken, until I heard the quiet sniffs and sobs one night on my way to the bathroom. There is no avoiding it. Heartbreak hurt us all. That night was when I decided I never wanted mums constant teapots next to my bed while I cried at night. I was never going to have my heart broken – especially since it already had a scar and a crack from two other males in my life. But you don’t chose who you fall in love with.