Ben was giving me a ride home from the screening and I was a little trashed. Not wasted, but just drunk enough to where my words felt like they were going to flow out of my mouth like water. I could feel them bubbling up in my throat, and resting on the tip of my tounge.
But instead of confessing my feelings, I fought the urge by letting my fear of rejection bring me back to sobriety. I dug my nails hard into my legs as I swallowed the huge dry pill that was my emotions. I remained silent as I stared out the window, hiding my face as much as possible as I let the hot, wet tears of frustration roll down my cheeks.
When we reached the end of my driveway, I gave him a half-assed hug and got out of the car as quick as possible. The moment he pulled away, I fell to my knees and collapsed in heaving sobs on the cold, rough pavement. My heart hurt, heavy with the weight of every secret I kept inside it.
And as I dried my tears, I wondered what would run out first?
My love?
Or my sanity.