I Want Love

The water was cold.

So cold it didn't even feel like water anymore — more like needles, more like memory. Like punishment.

It wasn't even meant to be this way. I just… walked in. Turned the knob. Let the chill bite into my skin because I couldn't stand the noise in my head and I needed something stronger than thoughts.

But the cold didn't quiet them. It made them louder.

Nigel.

His name kept repeating like a curse or a prayer — I couldn't tell which. And then all the thoughts came crashing in at once.

We've been together — secretly — for almost a year now. Almost.

Next month would've been our anniversary.

Would've been.

I had it in my head like it was a promise. Something I could hold onto. A day to circle in red and dream about.

Now I don't even know if we'll make it to that day.

Not because I don't love him.

But because he's angry.

He's done.

I haven't heard from him. Not since he replied with fire in his words — the kind of fire that always felt like goodbye even if he didn't say it.

I knew when he finally messaged again — if he did — it wouldn't be what I wanted.

Not softness.

Not understanding.

Just silence. Or worse — a cold push out of his life.

I was still standing under the water when everything inside me caved at once.

My knees buckled.

My vision went black.

I fell — hard.

THUD.

The sound echoed in the bathroom, sharp and sudden. My shoulder hit the floor first, then my hip. My head snapped to the side. I tasted metal. Blood.

I was cramping, hungry, and dizzy.

And I couldn't move.

For a second, I didn't even want to.

I just lay there on the floor, wet and trembling, trying to remember how to breathe.

My nose was bleeding. I felt it before I saw it. But I didn't care. I cleaned it up quickly, mechanically — like it wasn't even happening to me.

Then I wrapped myself in a towel and dragged my body back to my room like a ghost. Like a girl who had given all of herself away and had nothing left to carry her home.

Everything hurt.

Not just the fall. Not just the cramps.

Everything.

I collapsed onto my bed and curled up like something broken — something scared.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn't just miss Nigel's voice or his presence.

I missed his skin.

I missed the way his chest felt against mine.

The softness of his lips.

The safety of his hugs — the kind that wrapped around me like armor.

I missed My Person.

The only one I had ever loved like this.

And now… I was sure he didn't feel the same.

He hadn't texted.

He hadn't called.

He probably wouldn't.

And maybe I deserved it.

Maybe this was what I got for being too much.

I rolled onto my side and stared at my bag slouched in the corner. Something caught the light.

A beer can.

Left over from our last date. I hadn't touched it since. Just carried it around like memory.

I picked it up slowly, turning it over in my hands. The metal pressed against my skin like a ghost. I didn't open it. I didn't drink.

Because no amount of numbness could fix this.

I just held it there, letting the weight of it sink in.

And then, because I didn't know what else to do — I reached for my phone.

Writing has always been my one soft place.

So I opened a blank document and let the pain write itself.

---

The Poem

I hurt you like storms break glass,

Shattering all the quiet we built.

I love you — a fierce and fragile thing,

Like fire struggling not to consume.

I want you like a desperate sea,

Crashing against the shore that turns away.

Please don't leave me in this silence,

My heart beats wild, a prisoner of longing.

You are my sunshine, my only warmth,

The light I chase through all the dark.

But I am the storm you fear,

And I'm so sorry for the damage I've done.

Stay — not for who I am now,

But for the girl beneath the cracks.

Please — don't let go.

---

I read the poem over and over until it felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

I hated myself.

For breaking us.

For needing too much.

For being the reason he was furious and done.

I was the storm.

And I had ruined the only calm I ever wanted.

I screamed.

Not just from sadness. Not just from pain.

But from a place so raw it tore through everything I tried to hide.

"I WANT LOVE!"

The words ripped from my throat, jagged and desperate. The kind of scream no one hears because it's swallowed in the dark.

I was drowning in the ache.

And then —

The thought came.

Sharp.

Quick.

Cruel.

"Just hurt yourself, Rue."

"Maybe then this ache will stop screaming."

My eyes locked on the knife. Cold. Clean. Easy.

And I hated myself even more for not looking away.

I sat there, staring at it, frozen in the idea of doing it — not because I wanted to die, but because I didn't know how else to feel something that made sense.

"You already hurt him," I whispered to myself, voice shaking.

"Why stop now? Just finish what you started."

My fingers trembled.

But then another voice — softer, distant, but still there — cut through the fog.

His voice.

"Promise me, Rue. Promise me you won't ever do that again."

He said it once while holding me like I was made of glass and fire.

He had anger in his voice.

And I promised him.

Not because I was sure I could keep it.

But because I wanted to.

And right now — even if he hated me, even if I never saw him again — I couldn't break that promise.

Not this one.

Not when I'd already shattered everything else.

So I stood up, slowly, legs still shaking from earlier.

I walked past the table.

Left the beer unopened.

And fell into bed again like a ghost trying to come back to life.

Tears didn't come.

Nothing did.

Just a dry, shaking breath and the sound of my heart breaking inside my chest.

I curled into myself tighter.

Staring at the ceiling.

Wishing I could disappear.

Wishing he'd come back.

Wishing I could fix this.

But knowing — deep down — that maybe I never could.