Diary of a 20 Something Year Old
This is my own personal mindfuck

By Stephenchen
The ball in his stomach was just a little to tight for his comfort. He always got that feeling when he saw his name. It's like even the mention of him still had a pull on his heart. It was the very reason that he had destroyed any relation to him. Any connection there was to be had between the two had been severed. Or so he thought.

It was Christmas. It's always a holiday when he comes back. It's on holidays when he is reminded most of him. And so he waits in a conjunction of emotions, filled with dread, anticipation, and hope at the same time, for his phone to ring. And surprisingly ring his phone did not. The last time they had spoken was on his birthday. he woke up to his phone ringing and answered it without looking. And sure enough, there was that southern drawl. That slight twang in his deep hello, and he was caught of guard more than anything. The conversation had been brief. He made sure it was brief because he wouldn't allow it to become long. Wouldn't allow it to affect him anymore than it already had. And already he felt like someone had turned the lights out on all that he knew. He was decisive. Strong headed even at times. If he knew he wanted something there wasn't a question in a mind besides how to get it. He did not doubt often.

Yet every time he called, his world stopped for just a second. It disrupted for but a moment, like a blip in a dvd, when the movie suddenly stops for a nanosecond and then leaps forward again. And so he avoided him at all costs. It was easy they lived on other sides of the country. But he knew that he would contact him in some way over the winter break. And so imagine his suprise when he didn't see a strange number once. And for a second he thought that maybe it was all finally over. That there was no more looking back. No more second guessing.

And then he got on Yahoo. And sure enough there was his name. The name that still tugged on his heart. And there was the ever so sweet message, coyly admitting that he still thought of him every day. And then came the anger. The anger he felt all along. The anger that made him strong enough to have stopped talking to him in the first place. The anger that served as his devourer of sweet emotions he once had for the man.


And yet. Even then in the darkest moment. There's still that tug. There's still a slight nudge on his heart. And he ignores it.
 

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