Don’t call me a heartless bitch no more
It’s currently 6am, i just got back from my boyfriend’s house.
No i wasn’t sleeping over tonight, my parents are finally back home from Kuala Lumpur. It wasn’t even a kinky affair or anything like that.
I actually initially got back home at 11.30 pm from a lovely dinner with a close friend but at 3.06 am i suddenly received this text from Dem which said,
“Dear…i love you. Woke up suddenly because my heart is beating so fast. And it really hurts”
and that was the last thing i heard.
Maybe i’ve just watched too many sappy movies in this lifetime or spent too much time reading badly written articles off Though Catalog but 20 missed calls and 15 texts messages later, my own heart was starting to beat faster as i debated whether i should go or to just keep trying. I knew my mum would never let me go off without a fight (because who would let their daughter flee their home for the sake of the “love of her life” at such an ungodly hour?) but at the same time, i didn’t see the point of virtually “trying” to get in contact with him because if my worst fears were accurate, it wasn’t likely that he’d be checking his phone anytime soon.
I weighed the pros and i weighed the cons but either way i looked at it, what i was putting on the line (i.e. my safety, my time, my parents’ disapproval) just didn’t equate to the circumstances that i would have to deal with if i decided to wait it out til morning only to find out that what i had been dreading the most came true. That it was way too far gone to do anything else and i’d spend the rest of my life knowing and thinking that if i had made the effort to just check up on him, i could have done something.
I remember telling my mum before i finally made up my mind to go, “i’m the only person he has here” which is true because he’s so far away from his family and friends and housemates can only help you so far. If you’re feeling ill, you’re not going to knock on your friend’s door (unless it’s your best friend and you’re really close) until it’s gotten really, really serious. But often times, i feel like people leave it too late out of fear of seeming overdramatic and inconveniencing others and that’s why some people end up dying alone. I would never want any of my loved ones to go through that.
Eventually, i decided to fuck it and hurriedly left the house before anyone could stop me. I was about halfway there when it started pouring heavily. But from the way i saw it, it was still a win-win situation either way. If i went to him and there was nothing wrong and he’d just fallen asleep then okay then, he’s fine thank God. But if i go there and God forbid something has happened and i’m the first one to find him, i could also be the one to save him in time. See? Win win.
So i got there and spent a few seconds pondering on my next move. I actually brought with me some half-empty toner bottles as well as a small bottle of baby powder because i figured they’d be solid enough to make a noise if i threw them at his window but not so solid that they’d break something or knock me out if they fell on me after that. Bahahaha. But the stupid rain made it just that little bit harder for me. I saw that the living room light and fan was on so i knocked and knocked and jiggled the doorknob in the hopes that someone had fallen asleep watching tv.
I continued trying to call Demitri but it became creepy because i suddenly got this empty dial tone where it should have been ringing… and like, i had just watched “Annabelle” the night before and it occurred to me that i was standing on someone’s exposed front porch, heavy drizzling, freezing cold at 4.30 am. Yeah not very ideal.
Thank God a sleepy-eyed housemate eventually opened the door. I almost prostrated at his feet with my palms held together as a simultaneous symbol of my thanks and apologies. I ran up and started semi-banging Demitri’s door and…a few seconds later he opened it.
Shocked but definitely alive.
We just stood there staring each other for a few seconds in stunned relief until i started swatting him for leaving me such a terrifying message.
The whole time i was driving i remember thinking:
1) Oh my god, is this why we’ve had such a smooth and fairly blissful relationship all this while?? Was i only meant to enjoy it while it lasted? Is this the bit of karma that i’ve been dreading my whole life, the price i have to pay for being such a bitch and a boyfriend stealer back in the day? Is fate now going to steal my loved one away from me?! *punches wood*
2) About that time when my mum met up with her “professional” astrologer friend and ended up talking about Dem and I. And how she read our birth dates and our signs or whatever and concluded that i had “met him a bit earlier in life than she was supposed to but he’s definitely the one. If this one doesn’t work out, nothing else will”. I don’t know if my mum made that up just so that i’d be nicer to him (bahahahahaha my parents think i torture him and put him under a spell since i’m such a horrible person but i swear otherwise) but that has always stuck in my head. I have to treat him like he’s my one and only chance at true love.
3) Oh my god if anything happens to him i will literally be one of those people who gets married to an urn and then i’ll be featured in all those weird tv shows as the woman who insisted on marrying her dead fiance. eugh shudders
Okay. I initially planned to put up a completely different post tonight but then this happened. Not that i’m ungrateful. I just never thought i’d love someone this much to be that person who shows up at their front door in the middle of the night dripping wet and worried to death.
That’s all for now. xx