These are the things you convince yourself of as you walk away from the love of your life. From the best two years of your life. From late nights in his car driving to the 24/7 diner just because he had a craving for fries, to the walks through campus where you’re wearing his football sweatshirt that still smells like him as he holds your hand and tells you that you’re his favorite person. You’re walking away from it all. 

As you walk into your building, you replay the past few moments in your head. 

Beau was walking you towards your dorm, after what, on the outside, looked like a good date. Except it wasn’t. It was the farthest thing from it. 

It started with the reservation being for a different day, so you suggested just getting fast food from somewhere. But someone at the restaurant recognized Beau and asked how he was feeling about the upcoming draft. It then turned into a twenty minute conversation with a stranger about different picks, where Beau stands on the line of picks, and what team would be best suited for him. It took him till it hit the twenty minute mark to realize that you in fact have left the restaurant and were waiting inside his car. 

The car ride to your dorm building was silent. But the tension was there. You pulled the classic, ‘I’m mad at you’ position, body completely facing the door away from Beau with your arms crossed. His hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road. When he got to your parking lot, he insisted on walking you up to the building. You agreed, but halfway through, you said something under your breath. “I’m so sick of football.” Admittedly, it came out of nowhere. Nothing brought it up, but you were thinking it, so you said it. 

Beau stopped in his tracks. But you kept going. “What?” You turned around, facing him, a couple of feet away from him at that point. 

“I’m sick of it, Beau.” There’s a silence between the both of you before you speak up again. “I’m sick of the stats, of the constant need to be on, of the spotlight on you, on us, I’m sick of it all.” You take another pause. “I don’t know how much longer I can take it.” 

“What are you trying to say, y/n?” He pauses. “Cause to me, it sounds like you’re sick of me.” Your eyes can’t help but roll at his statement. Of course, Beau Maxwell has once again gotten it wrong. For what feels like the thousandth time this week alone. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, Beau. I’m saying that I’m sick of coming second place in your life. I’m sick of football coming before me at all times, even when we’re alone, it finds its way to seep into the cracks of everything we do. I can’t do it anymore, Beau.” His nostril’s flare, and you can see his desperation in his face. 

“Y/n, you know that I have to focus on the draft right now. It’s right around the corner and I have to get picked.” 

“You’re going to get picked, Beau!” It comes out as a yell, not what you were intending. “You’re one of the greatest prospects the league has seen in forever, and it's been set for years that you’re going to be the next star quarterback of the NFL. But, where does that leave me?” Beau’s face showed you that he has never considered that before. “I’m not built to be just the girlfriend of the next star player for whatever team you’re going to get picked for. I have my own dreams, my own ambitions. I don’t want to throw that away.” Neither of you speak, the words landing heavy in the atmosphere. “What are we doing here, Beau? Where do you picture me in your life? Am I with you?” 

Beau shakes his head, not comprehending. “I think maybe we should take a break.” There it is. It’s been lingering for a while now. The words were something neither of you were courageous enough to say until now. “I can’t have anything holding me back. Not right now. I could be anywhere in the fall, and I don’t- I can’t drag you with me wherever I go.” The tears sting your eyes as you try to keep them in. 

“Is that how you feel about me?” The question hits the cold January air, and it lingers. “That I’m just something you’re dragging around?” 

“No! No, of course not! You’re not just something I’m dragging around…” The pause was detrimental, and you knew what was coming. “But I can’t have anything, or anyone, keeping me away from focusing on my rookie season.”

“Then I guess this is it.” You shrugged, before crossing your arms over yourself. The tears have fallen down by now, falling free. 

“I guess so.” There’s nothing more to say, so you turn, and you start walking towards the door, trying not to cry until you get inside. You didn’t want to show him how broken you were. 

Allie and Hannah found you on the couch eating Hot Cheetos while watching Grown Ups a few hours later. One look at your face, and they were rushing over, catching you in a hug. One look at their faces and you were sobbing into Allie’s chest as Hannah played with your hair from behind. You told them everything when you were able to calm down, the weeks leading up to it, what made the breaking point, and how it ended. 

Your two roommates shared a look with each other over the top of your head as you cried into your hands, completely distraught over losing the love of your life. And that’s exactly what it was. 

The biggest loss of your life. 

The days following were even worse. You saw it coming. 

I’m just staring at the ceiling, can’t describe this feeling

Days spent in your bed, looking up at the ceiling of your dorm as you contemplate everything that has happened. You think over every detail leading up to the breakup. The mostly good memories you have with Beau, and then you realize that really the only bad memories were the ones in the final weeks. This particular position you have in your bed reminds you of when you stayed the night at Beau’s off campus house for the first time. 

Beau had suggested the sleepover a few days prior. And to say you were nervous is an understatement. When you showed up at his door with your duffel bag on your shoulder, you were shaking as you knocked. Eventually, Beau came to the door and let you in. “Here baby, let me get your bag.” Beau took your bag and led you upstairs quickly, where you ended up laying and watching a movie on his laptop. He convinced you to watch Remember the Titans. You loved it. 

It didn’t take long before the two of you were looking up at the ceiling, sharing your thoughts and feelings about anything and everything in between. “And that’s why I think the moon landing was fake.” You turn your head to your boyfriend, eyes narrowing. 

“If you truly believe that, I’m not sure this is gonna work out.” Beau laughs, rolling to his side and holding his head up with his fist. 

“Did I trick you at all?” You shake your head, still laying on your back. Your eyes drift back to the ceiling, hands splayed against your stomach. 

“Do you ever think about the things that you’ll never know?” The question causes a bout of silence in the room. Beau sighs, rolling to be on his back again and leading his hand to yours and he grabs hold tightly. 

“Didn’t know I would be having an existential crisis during our first sleepover.” A laugh comes out of your mouth before shaking your head. Turning your head, your face turns solemn. 

“I’m serious, Beau.” His name coming out of your mouth causes him to look back at you. At this point, the two of you had been dating for only a few months. “There’s so many things out there that we don’t know about, and we’ll never know about them.” Beau takes his time with his response, and it builds the tension in the room. His face paints a picture of how he’s trying to take this conversation seriously, and you truly think he is. 

“I think…” He starts, drawing you into whatever he is going to say next. “That knowing you defeats the anxiety of all the things I’ll never know.”  A smile paints your face, and your un-occupied hand reaches out to his cheek, caressing his cheekbone. 

“I love you.” It’s the first time you’re saying it out loud, and you couldn’t feel it more strongly than you do right now. 

“I love you too.” Beau leans, capturing your lips in his. 

The feeling in your stomach cannot be described. 

I’m just searching up my symptoms/desperate to fix ‘em/went to the doctor and she said i was fine

The cursor in the search bar blinks repeatedly. Almost daring you to search what you’ve been mulling over the past few days. Before you can think too much about it, you start typing. 

Heartburn, nausea, low energy, headaches, anti-social. 

Multiple diagnoses come up. Acid reflux, indegestion, ulcers. None of them are appealing. But you think that none of them are true either. You just want to know how to fix them. 

You tried ibuprofen. Then you think about Beau again and the headaches come right back. You try to take Tums and then you see an instagram post with him in and the heartburn is like it never left. You try to go out and socialize with friends but then you see one of his frat brothers and you suddenly want to go right back inside. 

It took two weeks, but Allie convinced you to go to the doctor. It was a quick visit. You signed in, got called back, Allie held your hand as the nurse took all your vitals. The doctor came in and told you all the tests went exceedingly well. You’re completely fine. But you don’t feel it. 

Every movie that I see makes me cry

A few weeks after the fact, Allie and Hannah convince you to watch a movie marathon with them. Complete with your favorites. Grown Ups, Home, Mean Girls, the whole nine yards. You were excited when they brought it up. Happy, even. To distract yourself from the feelings you’ve been having. 

When it happened during Grown Ups, you chalked it up to nostalgia. Hannah and Allie laughed, nodding their heads. 

When it happened during Home, it was the fact that you always cried at the part where she can’t find her mother. Allie and Hannah cried too. 

But when it happened during Mean Girls, and even though you blamed it on feeling empathy for the situation, Hannah and Allie shared a look with each other. 

But then Remember the Titans came on and you bawled into Hannah’s lap as Allie played with your hair. A knock on the door didn’t cause you to look up, but when you heard Dean’s voice saying hello to his girlfriend without noticing you were there, your sobs became louder. 

What if this isn’t what I want?

The question circled around in your head. When you laid in bed at night, as you walked to your classes, when you were studying in the library, when you were drinking at Malone’s, it circled around in ways you couldn’t understand. 

For the past two years, all you’ve wanted is Beau. All you’ve wanted is what he could give to you. And what you could give to him. What the two of you could do to give to each other. What you could do for each other. It wasn’t until you saw him walking with another girl on campus did you finally realize that this breakup is indeed not what you want. 

It’s the farthest thing you want. But, you don’t know how to go back from it. 

Because Beau is the reason you’ve been feeling this way for the past two months. Your breakup is the reason you’ve been staring at your ceiling before your eyelids droop from exhaustion. Your own decisions are what's causing you. 

And then you come to the conclusion. 

I think you’re what’s wrong with me.