The Jessabelle

I was awoken suddenly by two long buzzes. My heart was moving as fast as a runaway train not because of the text but because I had just hit that moment of suspended sleep state where REM would've set in. Startled, I picked up my phone saw 3 text notification. "Probably emails" I though to myself but what the heck let's check anyway. Half awake. Yes I do mean this in the most literal state. My eyes scrolled over two junk emails and then highlighted a random unrecognized number. An unfamiliar area code but in the strangest sense familiar none the less given recent events. 

See recently, as in three days ago, I had taken the initiative for my own sake and too big of a heart, an initiative to stop caring just for one bit, to delete a number. I just had to delete it and never look back. The all too daunting screen of reassurance of an action, of an eerie forebodings of "are you really really sure", the confirmation screen had popped up. As if my innate action of my broken heart was being attested to by technology to "make sure" I wanted to delete this number made me sick. Of course I wanted to delete this number and no guilt ridden program syntax formula written into this blackberry would make me regret. 

So I did it.

Paused.

.

.

.

.

.

Then called an all too familiar voice, told my actions, smiled and felt the weight of the world temporarily lift off my shoulders. But c'mon we all know it is not that easy.

So my eyes were burning. They were on fire as I struggled to read and figure out the number before opening the text to read it's full contents. All I had attempted to see from the message inbox was "I happy". Dry, parched, irritated, pain was searing through my eyes. Sleeping with my contacts on I cursed my laziness and the brightness of phones as they are charging on an adapter cord. 

I read the text. My burning eyes seemed to all of a sudden focus. " Was this really him?". When you go through the worst times your friends will assure you of a time of repentance and realization of wrongs and closure to come to the person who had hurt their friend so much, hurt her three times, talked down to her like she was nothing "not even an afterthought in the mind" as I was so vividly referenced too.

All of these emotions were running through my mind as the past weeks since Thanksgiving had come into full effect. I admittedly was still so sleepy that I easily went back to sleep. I had thought to myself  thank goodness I read it in this state instead of fully aware.  I woke up and even double checked my inbox to see if it really happened and it did. 

Oddly enough there was no relief, no closure, just nothingness. I called someone close to my heart to tell of what happened. I was reassured I did the right thing. I thought of texting back many times today and all went to drafts. Even to say "it's ok I'm fine and you too". I just did nothing in the end. 

I was finally "cured" of an obligating heart to try and help those who are dark and hurt me. I simply did not want anything to do with the situation whether it was to remain neutral. Strangely, enough I would have assumed the person had deleted my number after the countless horrid texts of blocking me from his phone. But it was me who had that power.

The only person that I hesitate to text, that I think before I speak and write to, that my heart is still heavy for but as a weight of humbleness and cherishing whats most important in my life is the only man's number I have never deleted. Never forgot. Memorized by heart for the fear of coming to a point of no return and saying my last words was him. The person I called to tell of the text the night before. This person who I want to say everything on my mind and heart to but never find the words....that person. The person whose texts stopped even after breaking my heart. The text from the person who texted me who I deleted simmered an all too familiar memory of this persons texts sometimes at odd hours. But there was one difference. I would've always replied even if to say the worst, to cry, to yell... and that's where I knew and realized favoritism lived in my heart forever and if I was to be damned for being a hypocrite it was only for him.

See I stopped hurting for the one whose number I deleted but I forgot how easy it was to fall in and try to save something that was worth it even through 160 character limits. I tell the person I love most about the person who hurt me most. What's a girl to do?

Nothing. Just nothing but pray. Pray I never text him like that or he never deletes my number with such ease, for it is not an ease of heart nor reality to erase you from my heart. Unlike phones memories and moments don't have a reassurance button to ask "Do you really want to lose the person you love truly forever? Confirm?" 

"discard?"

I'll choose always "save for later" and "lock".

:,) Humans are not born with programs to love, we'll make mistakes but there's always a way back into someones heart that doesn't involve a hack.