lol u wild wyd
There is a neat, underlying logic that helps the stars burn bright and keeps the grass green. A thousand iterations are calculated on some great, cosmic abacus, each bead sending thunderous wrinkles across the fabric of space-time as it slides up and down its pole. The will of the universe is all packaged tightly within a set of equations, the boorish architecture of chaos.
It is unsurprising to note that no sentient being has yet been able to discern the nature of the cosmos, let alone fiddle with the code that comprises its programing. Such considerations are usually far beyond the scope of the average person, especially those whose lives are unseasoned by misfortune. Our protagonist, however, is not one of those people.
Staring at him, from the topmost corner of his phone, was a new Snapchat notification. He assumed it was a holdover from one of his many brief (and not so brief) stints on Tinder, which he had downloaded and deleted, then redownloaded and deleted again after running out of swipes, before finally redownloading and then immediately deleting again out of shame. But, as our young hero unfortunately* realized, it was not from some random 6 off of the internet. No, this was a friend request from his ex.
Now. Background information is important. Context, doubly so. Such details allow the audience to build a deeper emotional to the characters a writer has so painstakingly crafted for their consumption. However, since this is 2020 and the people reading have most likely cried at least once to Marvin’s Room, I will spare you the details. I am sure we all know where this is going.
Leo, having undergone a strenuous series of trials and tribulations that have not only tested his character, but helped him to redefine his values, has become a better version of himself after getting his heart broken. The countless hours he spent huddled on his shower floor, crying until his head ached as he ran up the water bill prepared him for this eventuality. The half-dozen therapy sessions he went to have helped him to love himself with the same passion and intensity that he craves from other people. The many nights he spent drinking with friends and opening up about his feelings have taught him that he shouldn’t seek out the things he thinks he lacks in other people — whether it be love, self-esteem, or attention — when he is more than capable of doing that for himself.
So, having run the gauntlet and after working tirelessly over the last three months to slowly get over his ex, the supposed “one who got away,” Leo made the healthy and adult decision to immediately add them back before throwing his phone across the room in abject terror.
Thoughts of her coming rushing back to him and he felt his heart begin to twist up in bunches, the all-too-familiar sensation of knotting pretzels squeezing in his chest. His skin prickled up with goosebumps and his heart started beating a little harder than he had before. Inside his head, the voice of Carl “CJ” Johnson, the protagonist of the 2004 cult-classic Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, muttered, “Aw shit, here we go again.”
Leo’s phone dinged and he let out a frightened yelp before catching himself; his Ninja Turtles clock read 2:04 A.M. As I am sure every reader is aware, nothing good ever happens past 2 A.M. If you’re still out downtown, the bars have made their last call and you’re forced to call an audible, having to choose between lowering your standards or listening to Frank Ocean in the Uber ride home. If you’re at home, you’re watching reruns of the same TV show you’ve finished four times previously and wondering why you’re unhappy. And if you’re drunk and horny? Sounds like your iMessages are gonna be full of pain and regret the next morning.
Somewhere, in the back of Leo’s mind, his ego was being duct taped to a rolling chair by his id. His ego was screaming profanities in horror, its eyes darting back and forth like a crazed animal. The id (probably) smiled maliciously before reminding Leo of his baser urges.
In the real world, Leo’s phone dinged again. He was wearing a t-shirt and boxers, standing alone in a nearly pitch black room; the only source of light came from a distant streetlamp that peeked through the cracks in his blinds. Were he a stronger man, or if he had sex within the last two weeks, Leo would’ve shut his phone off and crawled into bed without a third thought.
Leo was not a stronger man, and he had not had sex in nearly two months. Leo found his phone and stared at the home screen for a minute. FROM ********* stared at him mockingly from his screen. Without thinking, Leo unlocked his phone, opened Snapchat, and began to type.
