Ah.

I recognise this. All of it.

I think it happened once in my dreams, or maybe in one of my books. Maybe I was just told about it by a friend, and the story got mixed up with my memories until I believed that it had actually happened to me.

I know that happens next, by any means. I know how your face will turn, and your eyes will fall, and you’ll run your hands through your hair because you suddenly won’t remember how to string together sentences.

I won’t believe it at first. You will be in pain. I will be in shock. You’ll try to comfort me, but nothing will work.

You’ll say you’re sorry, but I probably will never forgive you. You’ll start giving me reasons, you’ll want to explain, but I won’t want to hear it. All I’ll want to do is scream and run and break things and cry.

How many times have you done this before? How many times have you ruined someone’s life with that one simple, emotionless sentence? It’s not my fault! I’ve done nothing wrong! Why me? Why not someone who deserves it?

But does anyone deserve it? I do not believe that they can.

It is cruel, it is selfish, and it is hurtful. I can’t go home. I can’t go home and wait for what is surely to come. Pain. I hate pain, but this is a different kind of pain. It is mixed with sour feelings, and love and despair.

One in three, they told me. One in every measly three. In magazines, on billboards, on telly. They told me everywhere. They told me over and over and over again.

But even still, I never once thought that I would be that one.


Never