I stare down at the piece of paper in front of me, trying to read the writing but it's all a blur. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, but it doesn't help. The words swirl and contort until all I can see is a face.
"Goddamnit!" I yell, throwing down my pen. I bury my face in my hands with a frustrated sob. I can't stand this.
Three days. Three whole days of not hearing his voice. Of not seeing his smile. Of not feeling his touch. Peeking through my fingers I inspect the massive pile of work in front of me. I sigh in defeat. There is no way I'm going to be able to concentrate when every second is just another second away from him. I climb to my feet and head into the kitchen, hoping to distract myself with some food or a hot cup of coffee. But on the way I pass the phone.
I hesitate, staring down at it. Such a simple machine, but it could mean the life or death of me. The life and death of my soul. I reach out to it, but as soon as my fingers touch the cool plastic, I pull back. It would be so easy to call him. To end my suffering�but what if he doesn't answer? What if he does? A plague of doubts whirl around my mind.
"Don't even think about it," a voice from behind me says clearly. I jump and turn around. Standing there with her arms folded is Jess, my flatmate. I hang my head in shame at being caught even contemplating phoning him, but I can't help saying something.
"What if he still wants to be with me?" I ask desperately. "What if even now he's sitting by the phone, waiting for me to call and forgive him? What if when he answers he says-"
"What is SHE answers?" Jess cuts me off. I freeze. I hadn't thought of that. The wave of anguish that I've grown to know so well washes over me, and I slump to the floor, tears spilling down my cheeks. With a sad little sigh, Jess comes over and puts her arms around me, hugging me close. Still sobbing, I bury my face in her shoulder.
"I�I�j-j-just can't b-believe he w-w-would do this t-to me," I manage to get out, trying to rid myself of this horrible feeling deep in my gut.
"I know honey," Jess whispers, softly stroking my hair. "I know. He's just a jerk."
But despite her comforting words, I can't wipe away the feeling of inadequacy that haunts me. The feeling that I failed him, and that's why he fell into the arms of another woman. That it's all my fault. And the worst thing is, I know I will forever feel this way. I will always remember that he saw all the faults in me, and decided that I wasn't worth it.
The words echo in my mind. Not worth it. Am I really that bad? To not even be worth the effort? I pull away from Jess, and force myself to stop crying. I convince her that I'm feeling better, that I just need some sleep. She looks unconvinced, but lets me go. I walk down the hall, knowing she is watching me. I turn the corner, out of her sight, but instead of going into my bedroom I go into the bathroom and lock the door. I go over to the basin and turn on the tap, splashing water on my face.
I gaze into the reflection of the mirror. Never before have I noticed how ugly I am, or how pathetic I look. No wonder he left me. I make myself sick.
I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the cool glass. How could I never have noticed before? What do I do now that I've finally realised what a waste of space I am? I open my eyes, and the answer is starring right back at me. I slowly reach down and pick up the shaver on the edge of the sink. I break away the plastic head holding the razor in place, and slip out the blade. Perfect. Now I can finally be at peace with the world, and burden others with my presence no longer.