She stared at her phone, eyes tracing over the letters that spelt out his name.
There was a war going on inside her head – should she call him? Should she even bother anymore?
The fight between the couple had taken place a few days prior, and now she laid in her bed, her heart heavy.
They had barely communicated since the argument, and it was beginning to take a toll on the girl.
She hated the entire situation.
More so, she hated how the situation made her feel.
Since when had she become so dependent on another individual?
She had always forced herself to see the downfall of every relationship – that way when they ultimately ended, her heart wouldn’t hurt so much. Yet, here she was, completely infatuated with a boy who refused to open up to anyone.
The most recent text messages between the couple glared at the girl. She couldn’t bring herself to contact him in any sort of way. She didn’t want to bother him.
So instead, she tortured herself by rereading the same stupid argument, in hopes that he would contact her first.
Her chest swelled from anxiety, she couldn’t stand conflicts.
The girl’s over controlling nature was fighting its way out – telling her to text him, to pour her heart out and cause a scene. But her rational side was telling her otherwise. She had already said what she needed too, it was up to him now.
She tossed her phone onto the empty side of her bed. She couldn’t look at that stupid conversation anymore, nor could she bring herself to delete the messages.
Her emotions were a complete mess. Caught between being angry, upset, and disappointed, she couldn’t focus on anything other than the lump in her throat, and the pain in her head from lack of sleep.
Was he as bothered as her about the situation? Could he sleep, or was he tossing and turning as she had been every night since the argument?
The questions burned into her brain, repeating over and over. But, she wouldn’t dare ask him.
Perhaps she should just let the situation be, and allow the relationship to fizzle out. After all, what was the point in blowing on an already dying fire?
Her thoughts were then interrupted by the obnoxious ding of her phone. She rolled over in bed, towards where the discarded technology was.
The screen lit up a second time, signifying there was, in fact, a message waiting for her.
Yet, the contact name was not from the individual she was hoping. Instead, it was her mom, telling her to come down for dinner.
The girl sighed for the second time. Maybe she really should let it go…