Voids Fill Up Differently, Students of IACT [great book club books txt] 📗

to ask your girlfriend to know if she still loves you”. It said that you ask your partner important questions about the future, one of them being about their thoughts on marriage. Personally this question hit pretty close to home. I’d thought about marriage over a million times now and I had hoped that Amelia was as eager as I was.

There she was, just sitting on the sofa of my apartment binge watching “Modern Family” on Netflix. I cleared my throat and sat down on the sofa, next to her. She had an expressionless face as she looked at the TV. I turned my body towards her and called..” Amelia, babe... What do you think about marriage?”

“Marriage?” She bursted out in uncontrollable laughter.

Her reaction left me uncomfortable to go through the rest, but this was an important thing that I needed to know right then, so I persevered.

        “Yes Amelia, what do you think, have you thought about us getting married?”

“Of course not” she replied in an uninterested voice. “Why would I be thinking about our marriage?” she said. Confused and slightly enraged, “Why not!? Doesn’t our future together mean anything to you??” I said in a  hostile voice. “I’m only 22 years old, why would I think of getting married so soon? There’s a lot more to my life that I want to do and experience before getting married.” said Amelia, with a defensive tone.

“Don’t you want us to spend our entire lives together?, Don’t you think of what our kids would look like or what they would do and achieve in life when their our age? Don't you want us to finally be complete?” I said with fury in my mind

“No, Michael…” she whispered.

Then it hit me, the things she said…..  There's a lot more to life that I want to do and experience? Am I not enough for her? Are there other guys that she wants to experience??

I couldn’t, I've had enough of her not appreciating what an impossible gift she has.

“Amelia you pathetic excuse of a woman, you’ve led me on for too long already. I will not put up with your manipulative tricks on me any longer. I've given you countless number of chances. You are literally the worst girlfriend a person could possibly ask for in his life!"

      "You have made me feel insecure and unimportant to you. You go out of your way to make me feel jealous of other guys. You constantly try to hang around Dylan as much as you can, even though you know he's trying to steal you from me. I've always warned you but it seems like you're just doing it on purpose at this point!"

        "You're a whore who craves the attention of other men so you just stay by their side and try to get their hopes up. Listening to your friends problems and being around them all the time isn't gonna make anyone like you for who you are.' 

 

"You're not fooling me any longer Amelia!” I stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door shut.

 

     Ring! Ring! Ring! My obnoxiously loud ringtone jingled through the room, snapping me out of my thoughts. I looked over and wondered who it was. Speak of the devil, it was Amelia. I held my phone with a tight grip, contemplating desperately on whether or not I should pick up the call. I let the first call go unanswered and instantly felt regret. Maybe  I should have picked up. Then she called again. I hesitated again. Finally on the third call, I remembered just how persistent Amelia can be at times.

 

As the phone rang, a brief rundown of what I planned to say to Amelia went through my mind. I figured I might as well get this over and done with for good. I was expecting the worse, only to be completely taken aback.

“Hey Michael,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “How are you doing?”

My heart clenched. “Where are you right now? Can… can we meet up? it's really important. I’ll come over.” I said as my voice cracked from the nervousness and guilt flooding through me.

“Yeah, of course you can,” there was uncertainty in her voice. “I’m at home.”

“I’ll be there in about half an hour or so.” I said, just before I ended the call. 

I quickly made my way to the bathroom. Since it was probably the last time I was going to see her, I thought that I should do the very least to look somewhat presentable for her. Needles of water pricked my skin as I stared blankly at the floor, worrying of what  was about to come next. Amelia was definitely upset with me again. But was she actually worried this time? Could she actually be missing me around her this time? No, of course not. This was probably another sad attempt, by her just one of her schemes to try and make me helplessly fall to her knees.

I snapped back into reality when I remembered I only gave myself half an hour to meet up with Amelia. I knew I was going to be late. I wasn’t even dressed yet and traffic would definitely be bad. I quickly dressed myself up in my usual get-up from my piling laundry, a pair of jeans, a plain black T-shirt and beaten up Converse. I rushed out of the house, got into my car and made my way to Amelia’s house.

The drive to her house wasn’t as pleasant as I thought it would be. The traffic was bad, delaying me further. When I arrived, I already knew Amelia was going to be upset. She always hated when I wasn't punctual. I can totally picture her, arms crossed, face red, eyes shooting daggers right at me. What I didn’t expect was to see a gigantic grin plastered on her face as she ran out to her driveway. I get out of the car to meet her.

“My grandma’s in town,” she said. “Is it okay if we head on over to somewhere else other than here… like to a cafe or something?”

“I’m pretty tired, can we just hang around here?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Just like that we took a walk around the neighborhood, eventually we came across a well maintained, but empty park. It was perfect. We’ve been here many times before but somehow today, it just feels a lot more different than the usual. The air turned cold, making my stomach clench. We didn’t say a word to each other but the silence was deafening.

Soon, the sun began to fall, and illuminated the park with a warm golden glow. A cool breeze fills my nose with the scent of Amelia’s shampoo. I turn to admire her just one last time. She was as pretty as ever, dressed in a simple white gown. 

I was distracted in thought of what I was going to say to her, until I looked towards her and saw that she was looking at me too but with deep concern in her eyes.

“So, do you want to tell me what it was all about? Why did you lose control like that?”

 “Amelia, I…,” I was stuck with my words and could not process what I needed to say to her next but eventually, it came back around. “Look, I’ve been thinking about it and I think it’s best if we both go our own separate ways.”

“Could I at least know why, Michael?”

I go on to explain everything to her, from her lack of care, inconsideration for me, and the unequal effort that she had put into our relationship.  All she could do was just stare back at me, completely speechless. Her eyes dug deep into mine, probably trying to assimilate the situation. Finally, she nodded.

Now I've become speechless as well. I expected her to be screaming, in tears, or begging for my forgiveness even… all sorts of things but not this! Which only proves my point of her not caring about me. It hurt me much more than it should have.

“Thank you for trying," she said.

With that, she walked away with nothing but a smile which what seemed like... relief?

I stare as her figure slowly disappears into the distance until she was out of sight. What did she mean? What could she possibly have meant? My legs feel like noodles and my breath hitched. Spotting a bench, I walk over to it. The grey concrete feels cold beneath me. Is it cold? Or am I just coming down with a fever?

My mind races as I try to bring together everything that Amelia had said. Thoughts of our relationship circles around my mom for a little longer. Did I love myself? Of course I did. That’s why I broke up with her, for the sheer respect I had for myself, because I’ve had enough.

And just like that, it all came together. I could see why Amelia did the things she did and acted the way she acted. It was me.

Me! Me! Me! 

All I ever cared about was me, myself and I.   

1.7 Letters Beneath The Screen

Letters Beneath The Screen

Sharyl Priyanka, Claire Wan, Ritz Tan

 

Day 1

A soft buzz beneath my pillow woke me from my deep slumber. I grumbled and groaned tiredly, rubbing my sore eyes and letting out a silent yawn, my arms reaching above my head. Just as I was in the midst of avoiding life, she interrupts me. I scavenge for my phone that hid underneath my pillow as I rolled over with a sigh. The almost blinding bright light of the phone screen emanating through the quiet darkness of my bedroom. “Hi beautiful,” the message read. “Beautiful? Yeah, right,” the silent whispers of my thoughts spilling out from the edges of my mouth. I furrow my eyebrows and hit reply, questions burning in my exhausted mind. “I’m sorry, I think you must have the wrong number,” I replied as I lay my phone back down.

 

Annoyed, my body stiff with fatigue as I shuffle from one end of the bed to the other. The strange text, though obviously wasn’t intended to be mine, managed to keep me from falling back into my deepest slumber. An ongoing cycle of thoughts running through my mind in a never-ending loop. “Curiosity is a pain,” I thought as I pull my phone from underneath the pillow. Unveiling the text once again, I hesitate for awhile before I hit delete. As soon as my fingers left the keypad of my phone, my eyes slowly - almost animatedly drifted shut, as sleep finally and quickly overcame me once again.

 

The sound of windchimes fills the air. The low sound stirring me awake and into the reality of my surroundings. Reaching underneath the flattened pillow that I had cushioned myself on, I grabbed my phone, silencing the alarm. “Six-thirty,” it read. I mustered a tired groan, rubbing the evidence of sleep from my eyes. As I got up, the silent vibrations from my phone led me back to lying lazily on the sheets. “I hope you know that you’re capable of so much more.”  Puzzled, I examined the contents of the text once more. “Does this person not understand English? Did my message not go through earlier?,” I thought to myself. Without replying, I haphazardly throw the