Hot air rushes up from the floorboard, so I roll the passenger side window down to cancel it out. Cold night air whips at my cheek and I regret my decision immediately, but don’t bother to roll the window back up because my heart is shattered and my eyes are burning and cold air is the least of my worries.

I didn’t mean to burn out of his driveway, but I'm kind of glad it happened because part of me likes the dramatic effect. It’s 10:15 and I realize that I accelerated quicker than I expected, so I tap the break just enough.

“I hate her,” I think, but I know that I don’t mean it so I try again. “I hate you.”

Tears prick at my eyes and I want so badly to turn around and go back to him, but I don’t. I'm tired of being the one going back. I wonder if maybe it’s my pride, but someone whispers in my ear that I am right, that I can’t always be the one to turn around, and I vaguely wonder if it’s God or not.

It’s 10-something-or-other when I turn right, left, and speed up again. I figure he’s probably in his house acting like nothing’s wrong, and the thought lights another fire in me even though I don’t want it to. I've got that feeling in between my chest and my throat and I know that I want to cry, but I can’t. A few tears drip down my face before I can stop them, but the last thing I need is my parents asking me what’s wrong. So I suck it up the best I can because that's all I've been doing lately anyway.

I'm turning onto the highway when the images come back to my mind. I try to ignore them, to replace them with something positive, but it’s no use. I'm tired of being angry and so sick of being hurt.

‘He doesn’t want to help you through this,’ it whispers. ‘ If he did, he would end their friendship right now. He doesn’t care about you.’

And I know it’s not true, but I still wonder because the signs seem to point in that direction. I wonder if I am really the most important person in his life. I wonder which one he would choose if it came down to it. I wonder if it’s come down to it.

I have half a mind to just call it quits right then. I don’t want to have to compete with some other girl, I donn’t want to be hurt and jealous and angry, I don’t want to distrust him, but that is the way it is.

I wonder if these thoughts are from Him or it or myself.

I feel like it’s bombarding me, consuming me, and I can’t take it.

“Stop it!” I cry, frustrated. “Just leave me alone! I’m so sick of you making things harder for me!”

I wonder if I should ridicule it.

I wonder where God is in this.

And I feels Him, somewhere, there with me. And I know that He hasn’t abandoned me and I know that He is helping me. And yet I feel so alone.

I pray and I don’t stop. I need Him, need His wisdom and His guidance, and I know that I cannot go at this by myself.

I don’t see an option other than cutting off contact, and he hasn’t given me any. I don’t understand why the other girl is so important to him that he can’t – won’t – let her go. She hurts me; her presence, her voice, her friendship with him – they hurt me. And I know that they shouldn’t, but they do. And I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t see another option.

It pulls at my thoughts, nags at my mind. I don’t scream at it this time. I keep praying but wonder if I'm doing it wrong. It is subdued, for now.

I am home – technically. I feel cold and I know that my home is with him. I know that I could make it on my own and I know that I don’t need him, but my heart hurts when he’s not there. I don’t want a life without him but I'm afraid that I will have to have one.

I goes inside, change my clothes, and go to sleep. Tomorrow scares me, but I try not to think about it. That’s what he said to do, after all.

He is the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning. He is with me at work, in the back of my mind. I put on my brave face and wear it well; I have it mastered by now.

I check for a text message on my break even though I know there won’t be one. I am disappointed and relieved at the same time.

I leave work early and try to waste time. I know the dangers of idle hands – after all, look at what came from his idle hands. I realize that that is it talking again and try to shrug it off.

I occupy my time with frivolous things, but at least it is something. My heart aches. I know that I have to talk to him sometime, and the thought scares me. I don’t know what to say and I don’t want to make things worse. I am terrified of losing him, but I worry that I will have to.

I replay it in my head for the hundredth time. It pulls at me again, but He is there. I think I might be trusting Him more, but I'm not entirely sure. I don’t want to jinx it.

It is 5:00 when I sit down to type this. I know that he is with her, but I try to trust him, try not to think about it. I tell myself that it is innocent, and somewhere deep down I do believe it. I have that feeling between my throat and my chest again. I consider calling Traci for advice, but know that Traci will only take my side because we are friends.

I wonder if this narrative is helping and I'm not even sure why I started it. I realize that I have such a habit of thinking in story format, but I wonder if writing myself as a character will give me some sort of insight. So far, nothing.

I wonder what I'm even going to do with this. I feel like I should do something and remember Jessica Beaver saying that she "wants [her] life to be an open book," so I consider posting it to my blog. I have given up on caring whether or not people think I am stupid. My heart still aches. It has tried to draw me to it so many times that I have lost count. I want to yell at it again, but I've realized that yelling doesn’t make it go away.

Relient K is in my head and I try to believe that somewhere in me there is strength.

Really, I just want so badly for this to resolve. I don't want to be angry and hurt anymore. I want to get over this more than anything. I just need to find some other option, since he has already shot mine down.

I feel somewhat bitter again.

I wonder again who he would choose.

Somewhere inside of me, I am afraid that I already know.