I send you a text, but I quickly cancel it out. I figure I send you a picture instead, that way you’ll be able to remove all doubt. I wonder what you’re thinking, “Maybe he sent it to the wrong person; I’m sure of it. There can’t be any other reason.” Then I sit and contemplate. I hesitate; I wonder why I even did that, but it was too late. So much anxiety building while I wait. Those seconds seem like an eternity. Will you even reply back to me. Why would you even want to. After all, I’m sure you remember what I put you through. I look out the window lying to myself that I didn’t crack first. I see my reflection and realize that I really am hurt. A smrik replaces my empty face and I do anything to kill time— like tie my shoe lace. Then I finally get that reply. A sigh of relief quickly turns into a moment of grief. Should I even open it? I’m scared I’ll be hurt from it. Why not just be happy that I made it. I sent a text and she definitely reciprocated. I close my eyes and press view. It was a simple photo of a list of things we were supposed to do. I wonder why she kept it. I wonder why she sent it.

Then I picture you doing the same. Looking out the window contemplating if you should play this game. Your reflection from a smirk turns into an empty stare. It suddenly hit you that it really is unfair. I treated you wrong and now I’m trying to repair what has been gone. You walk around your apartment in a steady pace, not even caring that you have an untied shoe lace. Happiness fills you up because you know you didn’t crack first. Your moment of grief turns into a sigh of relief. You look down on your phone repeatedly. You know your heart beats excitingly. But rather than send me a text of how you’re feeling, you send me a list of things we were suppose to be completeing. From skydiving to home shopping. Our list was endless. But nothing stood out more than number 323. It was circled over and over, “To grow old with each other and live happily ever after.”
To Be Continued…