I stand and walk away from the computer, grabbing clothes from baskets scattered around the room. My legs are unstable and I feel as if I'll fall soon. Another message comes, breathing becomes even harder. I ask the question. He answers, should I not talk to you? I ask him what motive could he possibly have to talk to me? He never respected me as a human being, why even give me the time of day? He denies it, of course he respects me. Wrong. I tell him he's wrong. I explain and send the message, moments later I feel there's more to say. I write more, and then more. I spill my heart, soul, love, and hatred of him into a tiny box on a screen.
There is only one last thing to say, that's goodbye. How do I say it so he knows it's true this time? It's hard. I feel sick to my stomach. My head is spinning. It's as if I'm driving a knife through his memory. That's it. The seconds continue to tick by, it's been a matter of minutes. I've been waiting weeks for this moment. I tell him.
You're dead to me.
Done. The shaking doesn't stop, only worsens. I turn the computer off. I will give no time for response. I don't want to know what he has to say. I don't want to know anything from now on. I've given up on thinking he can actually say something worth hearing. My head begins to clear and my stomach lurches only once more. It's over, and I feel like I can actually smile again.
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