Oh, how I wish I would stop checking my phone every two minutes, waiting for a reply I know is never coming. How I wish my mind would stop making me imagine having heard a notification, when I know my phone's already on silent.

It's been 15 hours and 45 minutes since the WhatsApp ticks turned blue, upon him seeing my message. He came online 7 times after, yet never responded. My heart feels like it's been physically moved from where it's supposed to be, and I can no longer even locate where the pain's growing.

My mind keeps shifting back to the last time I saw him earlier this morning. He had just told me he has feelings for me the night before, after we've been texting for over 19 months. We've been growing closer by the day. Something about him got me intrigued to find out about everything he is, ever since the day our friends introduced us. I always thought it was a one-sided thing, just like it always is with people I find interesting. But this time, it was so beautifully reciprocated. He turned out to have been closely watching me way before I even started acknowledging his existence, and the stories he later shared with me about how he numerously tried to get my attention, still melts my heart. He finally told me that he likes me over WhatsApp, because we both knew I wouldn't be comfortable hearing it for the first time over the phone.

So, we had agreed to meet at Starbucks today, because our friends were all over the place on campus this morning and we couldn't even spend a few seconds alone. No one's supposed to know anything about how things have been developing just yet, but the way he fixed his gaze on me all day today made me certain they must all know by now. Whenever my eyes met his, my heart would start beating so fast, that I had to instantly look away every time before anyone heard the noise. Butterflies were all over my insides, and it felt like he was slowly making his way into the secret chambers of my heart.

This was the first time he asks me out. He wanted our first date to finally happen after I know about his feelings, even though his implicit flirtation already gave me a heads up before he decides to let me in on anything he felt. We've both been very excited about finally doing it this way. I even went shopping to get a new dress for the date, and made sure I looked like someone he wouldn't want to take his eyes off all night long.

It wasn't until I sat down in front of the mirror to add the final touches of my reddish lipstick that perfectly matched my scarf, that I started doubting everything I was about to do. I had already prepared the words I wanted to say, and I knew he had a lot more to let out. But staring back at my image in the mirror reminded me of a whole lot of insecurities I was unintentionally trying to push back.

I never wanted to get in a relationship. I know I'm a very hard person to deal with, with all the sudden mood swings, the need to be alone, and the mean versions of me that come up whenever someone unintentionally messes with my wellbeing. With my need for affection mixed with my refusal to openly talk about my feelings. With my trust issues supported by a deep fear of commitment. I couldn't handle getting attached to someone and having to go through all the phases of being obligated to check on them because I have to show that I care, then worrying about them because I eventually do care, and finally worrying about being such a burden because the way I care can sometimes be a real pain in the ass.

Being on my own seemed like the perfect plan, especially with all the relationship problems and breakups that I witnessed among different friends and family members. None of them made it seem like being with someone was a good idea whatsoever. My heart was finally content with where my mind's going, and that was the first thing I ever felt they were both aligned on.

Now what was happening? I was willingly getting closer to someone while allowing myself to really enjoy it, without thinking of any possible consequences. I was letting him in on a world I had previously promised myself to keep behind permanently closed doors, and it was weird that I didn't feel bad about it - not even slightly, not at all.

I knew I was shortly going to start regretting it all, and so before I could think about it for one more second, I unlocked my phone, tapped his name, and typed it out.

I won't be able to make it tonight. I'm so sorry, I don't think this will ever work.

And, Send.

I only realized I was already 30 minutes late after it was delivered, which meant he had probably been sitting there for at least an hour. I waited for a few seconds then watched him go offline without uttering a word. He didn't even attempt to type a single letter.

And that was it.

Even though I can't precisely say I hated him at that moment, because he's still occupying some major rooms in my heart, but I was shook. I know that was probably not the best thing to send out on a day we were counting down the minutes for, but the person staring right back at me in the mirror scared me so bad, I had nothing better to do.

I wanted him to hold me, I wanted to feel his warm breath somewhere around me. I wanted him to assure me that it was going to be alright. That unlike everyone else, he was really meant to stay. I wanted him to scream at my face, to tell me how much my thoughts sounded completely insane. I wanted nothing more than a comforting reply, and he probably knew how much I was waiting for one. A reply that would make me feel a little less guilty about crushing his heart - before I was even completely allowed in. He was hurt, he was deeply hurt. He chose to hurt me back, and God how I wish he wasn't so sure his silence will cut right through every little piece of me. How I wish he didn't know me this well. How I wish I hadn't let him in. And how I wish pushing him away was as easy as holding the backspace key on my touch screen.

Yet how can you wish to forget someone who has given you so much to remember? How can you possibly wish to kill every thought of someone who has only ever made you feel alive?

Sixteen hours later, I realize I haven't experienced a silence so deafening. Sixteen hours later, I realize he's not planning to even slightly turn it down. Sixteen hours later, I realize that the sound of his silence has only succeeded in building a wall between myself and the world, a wall so strong that no human being can ever bring down – not in a million more years.

Sixteen hours later, I'm still unable to look myself in the mirror.

Sixteen hours later, I've moved the mirror out.

July 6, 2016