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Disconnected

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She woke up sobbing on the bathroom floor. Disoriented, she tried to remember why she was there. Glancing around, she saw the clock, it was eleven in the evening; she had only slept for two hours. All in an instant, the memories came flooding back to her.
Folding laundry while humming to herself, then crying over the song, which reminded her of her deceased mother’s favorite time of year, and sobbing quietly while the water ran in the bathroom. Throwing up everything she had eaten in the past four hours, because her heaving sobs had upset her stomach; then locking the door and curling up on the floor.
I must have then fallen asleep… she thought, her eyes watering with unheard tears.
Slowly, these tears turned into full out crying. Gasping for air, she sat up; reaching for the faucet to turn, so no one could hear her sadness.
Standing and bending over the sink, she continued to sob. Trying to get a grip on her emotions, she noticed her cell phone lying on the counter. Seeing this, she realized how much she wanted to talk to her best friend, and she dialed to number.
The phone rang about five times, and then went to voice mail. She gasped again and wiped her eyes. The one thing she really wanted to do was talk to her friend, and she hadn’t answered. Either that, or talk to her friend from almost a decade ago, whom she hadn’t seen in four years, and knew she couldn’t talk to.
Scrolling through the contacts in her phone she came across so many entries that made her cry harder. For family that lived far away, and friends who lived in the town she was born in. And even for people she knew but hadn’t seen all summer.
Getting a grip on her emotions, she pressed the call button for her old best friend’s second house, which she knew would be unoccupied. After a few rings, she heard the recording, telling her to leave a message, and she hit the end button. The familiar voice made her stomach clench and she realized that what she was doing (recalling the past) was torturing her.
As she splashed water on her face, her phone rang. It was her best friend, calling back. Quickly drying her face and hands, she picked up the phone.
After some chitchat, she realized she couldn’t tell her friend what was going on, no matter how much she wanted to talk to someone and not cry quietly. So she closed her phone, without saying good-bye, and leaned over the sink, crying harder then before.
Because no one else was home at that time, the only people she could talk to would be in the phone. This also meant that here was no one to hear her cry.
A few moments later, she became to lonely not to talk to someone, and she called her best friend again. This time, her friend said she had to go before she could get out what she needed to say, and this call too ended with a hang up.
She slid down the wall, dropping her phone and putting her head in her hands, thinking things would never get any better, but deep down, knowing this would be gone by morning. She couldn’t help thinking, while sitting alone on the bathroom floor. This is the one night I would really want to talk to someone, and the only people I want to talk too, I can’t. I’m… I’m… Disconnected….



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