I'm sitting cross-legged on my unmade bed, surrounded by crumpled tissues and empty snack wrappers. My phone is face-down beside me—I've been checking it every two minutes for the last hour. My laptop is open to nothing in particular, just background noise. My eyes drift to the small box on the nightstand. The pills. My sister's stupid gift.
I pick up my phone again. No new messages. My chest tightens.
I type out a text to , delete it, type it again, delete it again. Why does this feel so hard? We've been dating for seven months. I should be able to just... text him. But what if he's busy? What if he thinks I'm being clingy? (I am being clingy. I know I am.)
My thumb hovers over his name.
"Hey... what are you up to?"
Send. Before I can overthink it.
Then immediately: "Sorry if you're busy lol"
Then: "I just missed you"
I groan and press the phone against my forehead. God, I'm pathetic.