“When we were together I felt as if my, everything I wanted was coming true… When we split, I didn’t have a home, and I was like, I felt as if my entire foundation had crumbled and everything that I had climbed to was suddenly, you know, gone.”
By Larisa Gosla
“Message Sent Failed”
Fiction. Based on a True Text.
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
Heyyyyyyyy. It’s 2 am and I took 17 shots just to forget your name. Funny thing though, I forgot mine. You are still the only thing clear in my mind. I know we’re not supposed to talk, but it sucks. All I want is to text you in the morning and start my day. But how can it start without knowing from you? I’m sorry for whatever I did. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please just answer me. Please tell me we’ll be okay and this is just a rough patch. I love you. I miss you. I wish we could go back to how we were.
You send the text and your eyes close.
You wake up with your head pounding. You groan. Your phone starts vibrating under you. It’s your mother again. You decline it. It opens to the text to him.
‘Message Sent Failed.’
You sigh while a tear falls down your left eye. You know it’s for the best. You know you shouldn’t have sent that text. This is your second chance at letting him go.
You debate whether to erase his phone number or to block.
How can you erase the person that once was your everything?
You look at his name and more tears fall. You had an amazing life. You were growing and helping each other grow. There was nothing wrong. Until one day everything was wrong and he took it out on you. You took it out on him. Both of you were mad and annoyed at each other. Everything was going to shit. Everything you had become was gone. Now you were this ugly relationship that consisted of suppressing feelings and ignoring each other.
You remember the time you were in a rush, trying to get to work, and he was just laying there, on your bed, looking at you. “You’re so gorgeous,” he said to you. You rolled your eyes at him and he chuckled. You knew he meant it because you didn’t have a drop of make-up on and your hair was in a bun. You went to kiss him and he held you a little longer than he needed to. You knew you were late, but you let him hold you a little more. He kissed your hair and he let you go. “Have a nice day, baby,” he said, and kissed your lips. It was such a tender and simple moment, but it’s the simplest things you miss the most.
At the end, he barely stayed to see you leave, he rarely held you, he rarely looked at you. The simplest things now didn’t exist.
You know you need better. So you finally decide to delete his number. You hit delete.
‘delete contact’ appears in red, alerting you of what’s about to happen. Red. The color of caution.
You shake your head as if the phone could console you. Tears are pouring from your eyes.
How can you delete him?
The phone looks at you, torturing you with the same questions. You hit ‘delete’ and throw it.