For 48 long hours, my boyfriend's phone was off. His phone was off, his parents hadn't heard from him, and I couldn't reach the few friends of his who's numbers I had. Considering his risky lifestyle and consistent encounters with the police, my mind went straight to the worst case scenario. I freaked out. Full of anxiety, fear, despair, and nearing a full meltdown, I called every local jail, every hospital and ER, and waited. The feeling of calling a hospital and asking if your boyfriend or any unidentified males were brought into the ER is unimaginable. The pause between spelling their last name for the tenth time to the hospital records clerk, and their response feels like an eternity. Will they tell you the worst news of your life? Will life as you know it change? But he wasn't there, wasn't anywhere. As the 48 hour mark approached, his mom called the police to report him missing. And just in time, I finally got through to a friend of his who told me he was fine, his phone was just broken. Relief turns into rage so fast. How fucking dare he not contact me and shrug it off. When I finally spoke to him he insisted I overreacted, no apology, just a stupid careless attitude. 48 hours may not seem that long, but when your significant other is an active heroin addict with many other risk factors in their life, it's an eternity not to hear from them. Fuck him for doing this to me.
snowghoul
areudirty
dailybridgerton
pixelskylines
