I was sitting upright on my bed. I put my cellphone down on my bed and poured myself another shot of vodka. I looked up towards my dark ceiling, and breathed deep. I told him, whispered by my eerie feeling. Yep. I told him. Must be the jolt of confidence from the 5 shots of vodka I drank before sending him that message.

I felt a mild tremor which signaled a text message. It was a question. A clarifying question. I immediately tapped in my reply message with a slight touch of ire. I helped myself with another shot of vodka while I await the message that I know that will make or break me.

One more tremor. The moment of truth. I drank the last half of the previous shot of vodka before I pressed the read button. As my eyes moved to read each words, my mind slowly realizes that what I thought of before was correct. My mind raced in satisfaction that I was correct, then I heard a crashing sound. Shattering to be exact. At first I thought it was the glass that I was holding, but I looked at my left hand and saw it there. I scrambled to see what was the source of that loud crash. I looked down on the floor, and saw something that made me realized that I lost something.



I stood up, walked towards the door. I stood there, just looking at the doorknob. Uncertain of what to do. I went back to my bed and sat down hugging my pillow. I replied a couple of times more before we finally stopped messaging each other.

I took my pillows and lay it on the opposite end of the bed. I laid on my bed, looking at the lone shiny star up in the star. I felt a trickle on my left cheek. Tears slowly making its way down, being pulled by gravity. There was no weeping. It's as if my eyes knew what to do in a time like that. Tears rolling down in regular intervals, like bullets fired from a gun.

I was correct. That everything was just wishful thinking. That everything is just on my mind. That my happiness before, although not fake, is simply make believe. That every insecurity that I have during that short story is warranted. That he came back for another reason, and not the reason that I had in mind.

I should've trusted my gut. It kept shouting to think otherwise but I still chose to chase this dream. I felt as though I had an opportunity to reach that star, but I ultimately failed. I already knew something was up when he was sending mixed signals. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!!! Shit!

So there I was, spiraling downwards drowning in my own tears. Then everything stopped... *stillness* I stood up once more, and decided to have one last shot of vodka. I took it straight up and then returned the bottle to its proper receptacle. I turned towards the floor. Looking once more to the fragile heart that has been shattered again. I already know the drill, I started to painstakingly pick the pieces of my shattered heart one by one, piece by piece.

Slowly as well, I began to build the defenses that was turned down these passed days. Slowly rebuilding everything that was destroyed by my inability to stop and think.

After somehow that I was able to make myself emotionally stable, I laid again on my bed and thought, he did not do something wrong. I was the one who was wrong. He simply straightened out everything. I should be the one apologizing. It is not self-pity but simply the truth.

On my line of sight, I caught again vodka bottle that gave me the confidence to shatter my own dreams. I took it and gave myself another half full glass. And just like the last one, I had it straight up. I went back to bed and finally tasted this bitter after taste. The bitter taste of melancholy.

In the end, I learned one lesson from all this...

"Prince Charming only exist in fairytales"