what happens when you tell a boy to f*ck off but you just want him closer

I've always had a problem in remembering that sadness isn't beautiful.

The lingering loneliness, the quiet haze, the pretty girls who always say that they aren't pretty. Sadness has a visage which holds so strongly that it entrances me, twists my thoughts until I say to myself, you are sad. you are depressed. you are lonely and nothing will ever be okay. And through that dampness of cold air and tears, I feel beautiful.

The thing is, he never thought that way.

I think that was one of the things I like most about this boy - he is so real. He isn't immature or crazy or anything. He understands pain and how it passes, and he can breathe a little easier than I can. He isn't sad, and he knows that sadness isn't something to swim in. But I drink glasses of it every day, thinking about how it makes me pretty.

It might just be that he's seventeen and I'm fifteen and there is a big difference between us but we never remembered those things. He understood how I felt when I didn't say it, and I had never met anyone like me before. It was a dip in cold water and in the best kind of way.

That isn't to say he's perfect. He asked me out once, a week after we started talking. I didn't like him - still don't - and it would've been okay, but a week before that he had broken up with his long-term girlfriend. And that wasn't. There was something unstable and fumbly in that idea, and I turned him down. Done. And we were okay.

But I messed up. I got lost in my need to be sad and beautiful and I lost him. 

Do you ever just get doused in sadness? Like a dial-down, suddenly plunging you in to a hollow kind of feeling. It happens to me about once a month, and I would pretend to be sad before that, linger in dissolving sadness after that. It's always triggered by something, and he knew that, and I never admitted it. no, I would say, it's just pure sadness. i'm just sad. i'm just tired. it's nothing.

Sadness is leaching. Sadness is attention-taking. Sadness is beautiful. Or at least, sometimes I get it confused to be.

But for a while, I had been okay. I had been remembering that sadness was just suffocating, that you drowned in that sort of pain. I don't even know if it was him, but it just was okay.

And I was triggered by the stupidest thing, like always. 

(It's dumb, honestly. I was scrolling through T1Diabetes on Wikipedia, and it stated several facts that linked depression and stress and eating disorders to it. And I just started feeling sick, because I have a friend who has Type 1 Diabetes and had an eating disorder and got depressed and is usually under stress. This article was reading out a synopsis of one of my best friends and it sounded so casual, factual. And all I was thinking about, what kept repeating in my head {or what I kept purposely repeating in my head} was, how is it fair that she is eleven times more likely to commit suicide just because she has a disease she couldn't have prevented?)

And we were IMing back and forth at that point, me and the boy. He sent me a song, like he promised he would, and suddenly I just didn't feel like listening to it any more. I just wanted to go and lie down or study. I wanted to be alone (to mope and slope in my quiet sadness).

Normally when this mood pops up, I just turn off everything and ignore everyone and turn into dredges of loneliness. But he was different, always, and I told him, i don't feel like listening right now, could i possibly be excused?

He said, yeah, alright. 

And I said, sorry, my mood just suddenly slipped. i think i'll talk to you later.

He said, no, hey. what's wrong?

I said, it's nothing, my mood just slipped. And then, to emphasis my sadness by ignoring it, I said, i'm just tired.

He didn't take my bullsh*t fines or my phony excuses. He said, no, what happened?

And I said, i'm just gonna go shower. I ignored his message. I scooped up the feeling and let it trickle down my hair. I had already begun sinking into this sadness with a smile. But I turned on the shower with tears building up and words echoing in my head.

He said, no. there is random sadness and then there is triggered sadness. what happened?

And.
And I messed up.

I saw his message and I paused, because he was right. Considered what do. Took in a lungful of bitter air. Felt a stir of annoyance because he was right. Considered. Air. Thought, he doesn't know me. he doesn't know my sadness. Considered. Lungs. Bitter. Air.

And shakily tapped out, f*ck off.

Sent it.

One moment after that and I sank against the floor, crying and confused and spitting up my own sadness. why did you say that, I screamed at myself, but the shower was loud and my throat was raw from gagging up sadness and it came out in terrible whispers. why did you send that, you just pushed away the only person who ever knew you, ever understood you.

I cried hard, shaking and sick. Someone had fisted my soul roughly and crammed into my mouth without bothering to straighten it out first, and I felt disconnected. I had messed up so bad, it weighed so heavy. Saltwater battled on my cheeks.

I had never dealt with such a thing. I shakily stepped into the shower, and I didn't feel sad. I didn't feel happy or anything. I felt like my soul was ill and my mind was puking and it was a dizzying, sickening taste in my mouth that crawled up into my eyes and came out in tears. I was just so confused. Everything was inverted, upside down.

Two minutes and I feel worse. And I know I have to apologize, because this boy is not like that. This boy deserves nothing from me but niceness and quiet pleasures and simple joys.

I climbed out, dried my hands, and he had read the message. Didn't reply. My heart sank.

i'm sorry, it just doesn't concern you, I typed out blindly, and I let myself crawl back into the shower.

I spent the entire shower reteaching myself that sadness is not beautiful.

I came out and he still hadn't replied. Nor, I had realized, was he going to.

you can't just treat people like sh*t and expect them to like you, I told myself. he has every right to be mad. and you are going to apologize and wait because you shouldn't do that. you were sad and lonely but you only made it worse, and that doesn't change what you did. 

So I apologized. I wrote, i'm sorry. i was sad and stupid and out of it, but that doesn't excuse what i did. i didn't mean it, and then an hour later, i'm sorry, again.

A day later and he hasn't replied. Seen it, been online, never replied. Today, I wrote his name and he saw it, didn't reply.

The thing is, he isn't the type of boy to save people. He knows that's not how it works, that you can't just call someone broken and beautiful and fix them. This is something I have taught myself over and over and I never remember, but he knows it all the time. I liked that about him. I wanted it to be about me. And I screwed it up.

sadness, I remind myself, is not beautiful. sadness is not a prince and a white horse and a castle and a happy ending and forever. sadness is hurting and crying and raw throats and nothing like this. you deserve more than a beautiful sadness. you deserve air and lungs and love and this isn't it.

Sadness isn't it.

Sadness isn't beautiful.

I've always had a problem with remembering that sadness isn't beautiful. But I never really remembered it a day until now.

The End

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