Day 2: The Unrequited Love Poem

How do you feel when you love someone who doesn't love you back?

It was like something or someone was pushing down on her chest, slowly increasing the pressure until she couldn't breathe. 

Every time she passed by him, avoiding his eyes, it felt like that.

At the office happy hour, she could hear him laugh loudly from the across the bar. She got up quickly and ran into the bathroom, holding her stomach. 

She'd only had a couple of martinis. She didn't want to be hungover tomorrow. No, the clawing in her stomach wasn't from the booze. It was from him.

It's been 5 weeks, 4 days, 13 hours since he told her he didn't feel the same way about her. 

"When are you going to get over it?" Her friends ask occasionally, in what they thought was a gentle tone. "It's not like you guys dated that long. It was like a month! How much could happen in a month?"

She couldn't explain it. What kind of idiot falls head over heels after the first date? In the middle of the third date, she knew she wanted to marry him. Stupid, stupid girl. At the end of the 4th date, he told he thought they worked better as friends or co-workers.

She agreed under duress. But could he tell? Who knows?

Breathe.

She gathered herself as best she could. Walking in a straight line, she grabbed her purse, said a quick goodbye to her co-workers, ignoring their pity faces and stepped out into the night.

Breathe.

Her foot tapped, impatiently as she waited for her Uber ride. Did he notice her mild panic attack? Oh God, what if he was laughing at her? Or worse, what if he was feeling sorry for her? The nausea hit her hard again, just as Georgie was pulling up next to her.

Breathe.

Georgie was quiet the entire ride, which was just what she needed. Kneading her brow roughly with both hands, she forced herself focus on something else, anything else. No one was worth this kind of physical or emotional agony.

"This you?" He asked, slight concern written on his face. He was probably worried she'd vomit all over his pristine car.

"Yep," she said, quickly hopping out of the vehicle. "Thanks!"

"Would love a 5-" He started before she cut him off.

"Sure! 5 stars, got it!" She fumbled with her keys, got into her small apartment, slammed the door shut behind her. She collapsed in the hallway, too distraught to make it to her bedroom.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

She couldn't.

---

A wail pierced through their walls. He rolled his eyes over to his girlfriend.

"I think our neighbor's crying again," he said, mildly amused.

She made a mock sad face. "Poor girl. Maybe her grandma died." She turned up The Voice loud enough to drown out the sobs.

“Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.”