if nothing happened and everything’s still normal.
there’s midnights where i hope you’d pick up and your voice would sound like steel and ice and you’d tell me to stop calling, that it’s been eight months since for ****’s sake and that you never want to hear from me ever again.
to think about it, you never even bothered to block my number. or my social media accounts. you couldn’t even be bothered to give a decent explanation when i found out about her. when i confronted you how it happened. how you met her in the midst of us. how you ended up with her even when i was still in the picture. as if you were just waiting for me to get out of it, both of your lives. like we never even happened to begin with.
there’s still midnights when my hands shake, my phone screen blurry from tears, my head pounding from the countless shots i’ve taken. midnights where i want to ask you “how?”, how you both are alright and happy and over the moon, while here i am, still stuck and miserable, still hopelessly pining for you-it's all unfair. how you got the guts to fall for her when you claimed you loved me with your unending professions. how you were able to walk away from what we had because you decided it’s her you wanted to be with. how you didn’t even have to move on from me. how all of these, those eight months seem so easy for the both of you. the hangover the morning after’s what makes me realize i did send you the recordings.
i tried to reach you again the midnight after, but the recording said that the number i have dialed has either been disconnected or no longer in service.
i guess you have finally changed your number.
-at least i know my messages reached you.
