Updated: Jun 18, 2019
I wasn’t really sure what Q had said when he walked out. I had been so drugged up on pain meds, and he mouthed it at me...I wasn’t quite sure if he had said “bye” or “write.”
You see, our romance had grown greatly between the blogs we would write. It started on our first date. I gave him my blog link, never thinking he would actually read it. I went home and poured out my heart about our first date. He read for the first few dates before telling me he’d seen anything. Then he started his own. We used them to be able to tell each other things without the vulnerability of saying it face to face. We would open our hearts, and let each other in in ways we probably couldn’t have otherwise. Surely, he had said “write”, right?
Either way, I was extremely bitter that I was going home. My parents and I teetered between fighting and not speaking for the ride home. They took my car keys when we arrived home to ensure I didn’t leave again. I wasn’t allowed access to the computer, so writing wasn’t an option. Confusion, frustration, anger and heartache filled me. How was I supposed to write without a computer? I spent the next few days calling Q nonstop every moment I got alone.
He wouldn’t answer.
When I finally got a response, the answer wasn’t what I wanted to hear. He had NOT said “write”. He said if our families didn’t want us together, it would never work because family was so important to him. His parents had advised him to stay away if my parents weren’t in favor of the relationship. He said goodbye one last time and hung up.
My anger only grew with the immensity of the heartbreak. I was determined to get out of my parents house, get back to college, and make Q regret the day he walked away.
And the first step, was getting along with my parents.
To see where this journey started: