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Twins who thought it would be fun to mess with my already messed up emotions and a vacation aka gap year that ended up turning into a nightmare.
I got hell, and yet I’m still holding one’s hand. I mean metachromatically. I want to be there for her and ugh, I can’t go there mentally or emotionally and now I’m literally talking to myself.
I can’t be that big of an asshole, right?
Because what if one needs saving?
Suddenly, I drop her hand in my head, realizing it’s not hers that’s shaking but mine.
Mine.
What if. In this scenario. I’m not the knight.
No, maybe.
I’m the one that needs the white horse.
I’m the one who needs a rescue. I’m…
I slowly start to back away from them both in my head, body trembling, lips not even moving anymore, even though I have so many words to say. I take one step, then another, then I turn and I run.
So much for a one-night stand.
So much for two.
So much for relaxation.
Now all I can do at the airport is pull a Kevin from Home Alone—and run.
I don’t even know where I’m going, all I know is that it hurts, I feel stupid, ashamed, I feel completely blind sighted, and yet I still feel in love, the only question?
Which girl is it?
Fuck if I know.
Hi, my name is Quinn and I’m currently sitting on a plane back home writing out my thoughts and feelings about a situation I had zero control over. I’m writing so my heart stops breaking.
I’m writing in hopes one day that will be true.
And I’m writing because PS… I love you.
Shit, it’s like I have this whole indie film in my head, the way it should have been. But the way it’s ending, is with me sitting at a gate and staring up at the sad flight attendants who also just want to go home.
“Maybe,” I whisper. “In another life.”
Tears fill my eyes, I’m tempted to share the note with Chloe, but instead, I just keep writing.
This is definitely not a John Hughes film sort of ending, everyone’s sad and broken, and nobody is rushing toward the plane to tell me to get off, and I’m not rushing back to give in when it’s still raw, but I do want to, Chloe. I’ve been burned so much in the past, so damn much, you don’t even know how much and I’m petrified if I give you the rest of me.
I’ll be broken forever.
And now I’m a loser that’s ready to burst into tears on a stupid plane, maybe it would be cleansing, to cry over you, to feel something other than this numbness. My emotions are barely held up by a dam right now, one crack and I’m done.
Maybe it is too late for me, maybe this is my curse, to fall for people who keep secrets and lies—maybe that’s my punishment for coveting my best friend’s girl or for lying to him years ago. I don’t know what happened to carefree Quinn, but I really want him back.
Why did the universe save me from certain death only to put me in a situation where it feels the same?
Dark. Isolated.
