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I woke up the next morning with the calm tweets of the birds replaying in my head. But I’m not with them—and I’m not with you. I wonder how you’re doing on this gorgeous, warm, Friday morning. Did the birds wake you up? Or are you not awake yet?
Yesterday I called you to make sure we were good for our date the next day. But somehow the conversation switched gears. I kept staring at the time, knowing that a very important moment was in the next fourteen minutes. As you continued to talk, your words came through my left ear and out my right. I could hear the clock ticking in my head—but no time had passed. There was still fourteen minutes.
As I started to let your voice into my head, I felt the ticking of the clock speed up, like a time bomb in one of those cheesy action movies we used to watch. It was if I was trying to focus on the emotion in your voice rather than the words themselves.
13 minutes. “I don’t want to upset you.” Those are five words that I hate to hear. If you didn’t want to upset me, then you shouldn’t have. I wonder how someone can come into my life, turn my life around completely, and then give up. But it wasn’t me, it was you. You claim you want to work on yourself, but why wouldn’t you let me help you?
12 minutes. I’m not listening to you. Your words are like the weak members in a pack of wolves, not important. But maybe I have to listen. But it’s so hard to listen when the clock is ticking and when my heartbeat is slowing down, almost as if I’m dying.
10 minutes. Hey, there are only ten minutes. We’re almost there!
8 minutes. Are you still talking? Why are you still talking? I thought we were done with this conversation already. I thought this was just like every other time. We would cry a little… or a lot, we would hug each other, and everything would go back to normal.
5 minutes. You know that ring that you gave me, when you promised that we would be together forever? I am going to have to stare at that, for the rest of my life, wondering where this went wrong. I’ve worn that every single day since you gave it to me, no exceptions. There’s something wrong here. How can you promise to be with someone forever if you yourself don’t know who you are?
The ticking has stopped. 0 minutes. Happy two-year anniversary. Since you can’t promise me that you will stay with me forever, can you promise me that you’re going to work hard? Can you promise me that you’re never going to give up on yourself? Can you promise me that you will look out for me and make sure that I’m not letting my thoughts get to my head? But most importantly, can you promise that you’ll send me pictures of the birds?