LOVE HURTS LIKE HELL

I gave the driver the address to my own apartment. On the way, I still find it needful to keep calling Cole. The first few times, it went to voicemail, then the number started being unavailable.

Now it just says ‘UNREGISTERED USER’ the moment I dial the number.

He either blocked me or unregistered his number. I want to believe it’s the latter for the sake of my sanity, but it still doesn’t make things feel better.

I try sending a text message to the number, but it says ‘message failed to send.'

I even try sending him a DM, which proves unsuccessful as well. He has blocked me in all places. He doesn’t want to associate with me anymore. Is there something I did wrong? Is there something I said that provoked him? But now I’ll never get to know, will I?

Out of anger, I toss my phone out the window. We had just started crossing a bridge, so the phone probably dived into the sea. I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck… At least, that’s what I try to tell myself.

I don’t know how I’ll ever recover from this.

For days, I’m either in bed or scrambling for something—rather unhealthy—to eat.

As days stretch into weeks, the silence becomes unbearable.

At nights, I would gaze at the ceiling, while daytimes were painstaking, as I would stare out the window to watch people going on with their lives. I no longer have a phone to keep me company, but having a phone wouldn’t make a difference.

I find time to read the letter delivered to me some weeks ago. Now I’ve prepared myself for whatever disappointment I’m to face. It can’t be worse than the one I’m facing now.

On the contrary, however, the letter does not carry any disappointments. It rather holds a ray of sunshine, of hope. Not the hope of meeting Cole again, but the hope of starting my life anew and making it into something without the help of anyone but myself.

I’VE BEEN ACCEPTED TO TEACH AT THE NATIONAL SCHOOL OF ART AND SCIENCE AS AN INTERN WHEN I’M DONE WITH SCHOOL!

What the hell?

My eyes can’t even believe what I’m seeing, but I'm sure I’m happy even though I would have been more glad had Cole seen this with me.

Nevertheless, reality hits me. If I’m to make this happen, I have to take my studies serious. Starting now. I have to attend lectures. But, first, I have to regain the habit of eating healthy and taking my fucking bath.

“Gosh…” I sniff my armpit. “I stink.”

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On a bright note, I got myself a new phone.

On the dull side, school isn’t any fun.

When I was invisible, it was easier to skim through the crowd without being noticed. No one looked twice in my direction. I’m sure even the people in the same department didn’t know I existed.

But now it’s like the whole world knows who I am. Every time an air blows on my face or my hair, I feel like someone blew it. Eyes with stares like daggers are focused on me, fingers pointing, whispers growing louder by the second.

I try to ignore everything. I try to invite the silence I’ve been living in for the past few weeks, but it feels like it had been suddenly sucked away the moment my feet touched the school grounds.

I recall the word the girl in my faculty used some time ago. Damage.

My academic record has taken a huge hit, though not officially.

Everything around me tells me no one wants me in the school anymore.

Lecturers and professors became colder.

The backseats hated seeing me coming.

Opportunities disappeared.

Recommendations grew uncertain.

I became a stigma that needed to be avoided.

No teacher dared to invite me to their office for anything.

I was silently banned from getting close to anyone.

My reputation has been destroyed. I don’t need tangible proof to know so.

Whether I like it or not, I have to believe I was better off when I didn’t exist to most people in the school. 

Then, I felt like I was being avoided, but I also realized no one knew me enough to avoid me.

Now, it’s blatant. I’m well known, yet I would see someone purposely take the left route when I’m coming from the right. They make it so obvious.

It’s just as bad as the repeated spreading of Dr. Cole’s resignation even though there was no public announcement about it.

His absence speaks louder.

Today, I passed by his office, only to find a new lecturer. Even his name has been removed from places it once occupied. It’s as if he had never been there at all.

He’s gone. Just like that. And I can’t help my chest tightening painfully.

It feels like losing something that represented everything. For the first time, I understand what it means to truly miss someone. I’ve never even craved this much to see my parents.

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Several weeks have passed again. It’s now two months since Cole suddenly evaporated.

My routine on working days continues as usual.

I wake up and say a little prayer, but not to wish the day would be better. I’ve gotten used to the brutality.

I freshen up, have breakfast, then dart to face another day of judgments.

All I have to tell everyone is ‘fuck off.’

I mean, it’s been two whole months, people, get a life!

My phone pings in class. It's a message from an unknown number, which is… shocking?

I open it without expecting much.

‘I’m sorry.’

That’s all.

No name.

No explanation.

But I know. I know it’s him.

Tears fill my eyes before I can stop them. Those two words keep ringing in my head.

I’m sorry.

But what exactly is he sorry for—for leaving? For treating me with silence and disrespect? For making me fall in love with him in the first place? Or… for everything?

I type a reply. Then I pause, my shaky fingers hovering over the phone screen for a while.

On a second thought, I delete it.

I type another, but erase it too—because none of them feel enough.

Nothing I’ll reply with will make up for all the pieces of my heart that Cole shattered and tossed to several places.

Nothing can fix this.

In the end, I figure I have to keep him in suspense the same way he did to me. Give him nothing other than silence. And stop pretending like it’s over between two of us.

Now, I have to actually believe that we’re done. It doesn’t have to take effort to keep reminding myself of that fact every day—it has to come effortlessly.

Although there’s no precise closure or resolution, there’s distance and an undeniable truth that love, no matter how real, can still cost everything and hurt like hell.