Ok, this is me, trying to be an emotional person. I hope it works.
I knocked hurriedly on the door of Arnold's apartment, eager to get out of the cold hallway. It was snowing outside, and since he lived on the first floor, the freezing draft came in every time someone opened the lobby door.
Arnold opened the door almost immediately. "Helga, we have to talk," he said quietly.
There was something about his tone that wasn't quite right. "Okay," I said cautiously.
"I think..." he paused for a long time. I bit my lip and my whole body tensed. I knew what he was going to say even before he said it. "I think it's best if we don't see each other anymore."
Yep, I was right. "Why is that best?" I asked, trying not to cry.
"Because it is," he answered shortly.
"That's not good enough, Arnold, and you know it. Is there someone else?"
"No way. I'd never do that to you."
And I believed him. After six years, I trusted him enough to believe him. "Then why?"
"Helga," he began, sounding like he was about to beg for something. "Our lives are taking us in different directions. We'll both travel, and we'll never see each other."
"That's never stopped us before," I interrupted.
"That's because it hasn't really happened yet. But when it does, and we're out there..." he let his voice trail off, because he knew I knew what he was getting at.
"But we love each other, isn't that all that matters?" I asked him. I knew I was going down-I knew I wouldn't win, but I wasn't going down without a fight.
"It doesn't work that way."
"But we work," I argued, "it can work for us."
"No." That was all he said. It was like the final word to it.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. "So that's it? You're just giving up seventeen years, just like that?" I asked him, turning cold. I was hurt, and he knew it, but I still was trying to make him believe I was just angry.
"I guess that's what I'm doing," he shrugged, looking intently at the floor.
I couldn't believe the way he was acting-not at all like he was throwing away a seventeen year friendship. More like he was throwing away last week's stale bread. And that's what I felt like. I felt like last week's stale bread. Like everything we had been through together meant nothing, it was all just a fling or something. I bit my lip, hard, to keep from crying. I finally had to stop, because I could feel myself penetrating the skin. "Bye," I whispered. I turned to walk out, letting the tears fall freely now."I'll see you around?" he asked.
"Doubtful," I said coldly.
"Can we still-"
"No," I interrupted. "It doesn't work that way, remember?"
Then I walked out. I left everything I ever needed. He was my life practically, and I would never even speak to him again. I had always been so strong. Now I couldn't do it, I couldn't be strong anymore. And the one person who could make me strong again was the reason I was crumbling. He was my stronghold, and he was leaving me to fall.
I left my car there, because I needed to walk to blow off some steam. I decided to come back the next morning, when I knew he wouldn't be there. He would be at the gym by seven. Then he'd go to basketball practice, then to school. Then he'd come pick me up from my dance class and take me-no, that wouldn't happen. I was out of his life now. I meant nothing to him, even if he meant the world to me.
And that was what I didn't understand. How he could he mean everything to me, and I was just last week's stale bread to him. How could he have been so much in love with me one day, and then the next day it was like I was some girl he had just met and not taken a liking to. Like I had never meant anything to him, and I had been totally oblivious of it the whole time. So much was going through my head that night, and it was driving me crazy.
