It’s 3 AM And He Texts Me

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It’s 3 am and my phone dings. My heart lurches in my throat and I curse myself for not having it on silent. Not because it woke me up, but because I already know it’s him. I know that it’s him and that my fingers will betray me, just like they do every night. This night, I say that it will be different. I tell myself I was never this girl. I watched my father disintegrate before my very eyes. I stood through my traumas. I held my own heart night after night. I never asked for anyone to stitch back together my broken pieces. I always did it on my own. I was the strong one, even when at my weakest.

But now, in my bed, texting back nonsense to a boy who tells me time and time again he will never give me what I willingly give him, I am a shell of my former self. I lie to my roommates when they ask the last time I talked to him. I repeatedly have epiphanies and announce with complete certainty, “I’m done.” I throw “fuck hims” around and put on my damn freakum dress. I dance until his lips on my forehead aren’t even a memory anymore. I dance until his name is just a name.

And then he reaches out. I think it must mean something, that I must mean something. And I go back on every promise. I go back on every word I’ve ever written. I convince myself he has to feel this too. I allow for his excuses.

“He’s scared.”

“He’s not ready.”

“He’s not over her.”

“He’s going to realize what he has one day.”

I plead with my own ego. I play Russian roulette with the little dignity I have left. I look at this crumbling figure back in the mirror. I can’t even remember when I used to love her so much.

I used to love her so much. She lies to me and tells me, one day, he’s going to see me for everything I am. I won’t be his emotional pillow. His selfish comfort. I am placeholder. I am temptation, something to ease the lonely. I am a girl he never wanted to begin with.

But the truth is, I can’t figure out how to make any of this sound pretty, or artistic. This is irrational, and dirty. This is ugly and a time I will look back on and feel pity for the foolish 22 year old woman I was. I am so goddamn lost and keep hoping his body will be the compass that leads me the right way. His eyes are lighthouses, but his hands sirens. I am shipwreck.

But before I know it, it’s 3 am again and my phone dings. TC mark

Ari Eastman

✨ real(ly not) chill. poet. writer. mental health activist. mama shark. ✨

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This is me letting you go

If there’s one thing we all need to stop doing, it’s waiting around for someone else to show up and change our lives. Just be the person you’ve been waiting for.

At the end of the day, you have two choices in love – one is to accept someone just as they are and the other is to walk away.

We owe it to ourselves to live the greatest life that we’re capable of living, even if that means that we have to be alone for a very long time.

“Everyone could use a book like this at some point in their life.” – Heather
Let go now
  • fleurella

    Reblogged this on LIFE! And other curious tales.

  • Anon

    Reblogged this on Tabula Rasa.

  • closetintrovert28

    oh no! not the 3am habit! :( Cheer up! It’ll be better soon…

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