Sense of abandonment

I felt that. Twice. Today.

First, when my dad gave me an unexpected call before I went out for dinner. And next, when he left.

On both occasions, I started off calm and fine. Then my heart crumpled. My composure crumpled. Hearing my dad on the phone, telling me things, talking to me, asking me to contact the family more often … big fat tears started rolling down my cheeks, and then the tears turned into big heaving sobs that made even breathing seem like a task.

I miss my family. I miss my mum. I miss the things we shared. I missed how we used to talk. Just thinking back those things make the tears fall again and again. I couldn’t hide the sob that caught in my throat. How I wish I could turn back time, or at least make everything alright again.

The second time I felt it was less than 10 minutes ago. Nothing to elaborate on, ’cause nothing dramatic happened. Perhaps I was feeling extra sensitive after the phone call, but even my heart aches when he kissed me goodbye. And the mask fell off my face the moment the door closed. All I felt like doing was curling up into a ball and cry. And I did.

I hate myself sometimes. For being so contradicting. I never appreciate things when they’re right in front of me, only to bemoan the lost once they’re gone from my side.

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