Another day passed. Another night to sleep through.

It’s 2 am. As if I cared. I’m lying on the bed, with the headphones on my ears, hoping the songs on the playlist will put me off to sleep. I’m not really listening to it. Five songs were already over and I didn’t notice. My own train of thoughts is driving me crazy.

“Class at 7am. Sleeeep!! You won’t be able to get up. And even if you did, you’ll be sleeping in class. Sleep now for god sake!”  I unsuccessfully convinced myself.

 I had already finished the bottle of water I keep next to me. I felt thirsty for no reason again. I crept into the kitchen, replaced my empty bottle with a new one. Drank some water. Hoped it was something more toxic. At least it’d stop my mental rants.

It’s been two weeks since I last spoke to him. [Finally, I come to the point!] It’s never been this long. We have fought many times. We would make up to each other within three days or so. He messaged me or I called him up. But this time, the fight became too serious and I didn’t even realize it. I was in no mood to give in. Why should I? He messed up this time! Or did I say something that stuck to him? I rewinded the last conversation in my head. I remember telling him that I couldn’t put up with his antics and I didn’t understand him anymore. And that I am not his girlfriend to take all the crap happily.

Oops, this could have hurt him.

I put my ego aside soon. How could I not talk to him? He was dragging this too far. He knew me. I talk nonsense when I’m angry. We all do. I tried calling him earlier. He didn’t pick up. I threatened him in a few messages that I’d turn up in his house to force him to talk to me. He wouldn’t have believed me if I had not done that once to him. He was shocked to find me on his doorstep. The look on his face was priceless. Shocked to find me there, wondering what to say, confused whether he should bang the door or not, happy to see me—all at the same time. Ha! This also happened after a fight. But this time I didn’t want to face him. It was just an empty threat.
The reason I’m sleepless is that he called up tonight. Guess what he said?

“Stop calling me. I need time.”

“Time for what? Screwing with my head some more! I said I’m sorry! What’s wrong with you?” I whispered furiously. It was late at night. I didn’t want to wake my mom up. That’s the most frustrating thing about talking in the night. You have to tone your voice down, downplay your emotions.

He sighed. “Listen, I think we should be just friends.”

I thought, “Then what are we now? What were we before? What is he talking about?” I knew what he was talking about. The ‘best friend’ tag that I forced on him conveniently; well, he was just forcing himself out of it now. I waited for him to say something. I was losing my patience already.

He sighed again. He calmly said, “We are done pretending. I am. I don’t see the point in acting as if everything is normal. You are good at that!” Ouch! That was rude. I didn’t say anything. He felt my discomfort through the phone. He continued anyway, “What I am saying is that we have spent too much time together to just throw it all away. You said that you don’t understand me yet. Then why are we wasting our time? Your sudden outbursts completely messes everything up. You tolerate me too much, I guess. I’ll take the pressure of from you. We’ll be friends. Not the best maybe. Just friends!”

After the long silence, I finally spoke. “As you wish.”


“Okay. I’ll call you later then.” I hung up. I was shocked. And I didn’t say one word. Why didn’t I say anything to him? That’s so typical of me – to get comfortably numb when something needs confrontation.

God, we both were so afraid to face this truth. Actually, I was afraid of it. He kept quiet for me. However the lie was burning me. I cared for him too much. But I didn’t want to be in a relationship. I was not ready. I never loved him. Not that way. The day he told me about his feelings, I reacted awkwardly. But I knew what I had to do. I told him we could be ‘just friends.’ The expression, he used it on me so brutally tonight. I knew it the whole time, during the last two years, that he was waiting for my mind to change. We became the best of friends nonetheless. But I had crossed the line in my fit of rage.

I hope he forgives me. Knowing him, I know he will. That makes me feel so terrible about myself. I hope he finds someone who doesn’t make him cry. I’ve been so selfish the whole time. I’m mean and cruel. I used him to remain sane. I used his friendship selfishly to fill the vacuum in my heart. Did I? How could I? Is it really the end?

I know we’ll be in touch. I can’t live without sharing the trivialities of teenage life with him, understanding his point of view on the same things. I lost him. Anything I would say, I could say, would not change anything. He’d be bitter. I am bitter that it all had to end this way.

I was selfish. But he has made his choice. And this time it’s my turn to make peace with it. Sigh!

Suddenly the night seemed silent and calm. Not noisy and restless. Just like how I was feeling now—peaceful. I realized the songs had stopped playing for the last few minutes. I turned to the iPod lying beside me. The digital clock on it read: 4.15

It was 4.15 am. Two more hours to go until mom comes to wake me up. O Crap! I shut the iPod and my eyes too!
Suggestion to anyone reading:  Rock songs are not lullabies. Listen to the silence of the night, that’ll put you to sleep.

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