Saving Charlie

On the last day of school before Christmas vacation started, I was contemplating on how I was going to spend the next two weeks productively and not think about what a mess my life had been the past two weeks. Ellie left me. Three little words that sound so simple, but it was the most agonizing words to string together.

She made the whole speech about not knowing what she really wanted to do after graduation and focusing her energy into figuring it out alone. Ergo, she needed to let go of dead weight, which was me. She didn’t say it like that, of course, but that was the gist of our conversation. You could tell, too, that she was trying to be nice and miserably failing. I mean, you can’t declare that you don’t love someone anymore and then, at the same breath, say that it’s for the best. It is just not possible to sugarcoat a breakup speech.

So there I was on the day before vacation officially started, everybody was out having parties and exchanging presents, and I was still stuck at the library, waiting for the elevator. I spent the entire week going back and forth to the library because I needed somewhere quiet to finish my final paper, which seemed to refuse to end. As much as I hate endings and as much as I struggled writing them, I was ecstatic when I typed the final sentence for my paper. Never had typing a singular dot meant so much to me.

I had been waiting for the elevator for three minutes when I decided that my life officially sucked. I leaned back on the wall facing the elevator door, closed my tired eyes and rubbed my temples. I looked up when I finally heard the “ding!” and waited for the door to open. I entered, smiling politely at the girl who was already inside, and then stared intently at the flashing LED light indicating which floor we were in.

That was the moment I thought I was going to die.

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