A Learning Process

My composition teacher recommended that I change my major. This made the think about my writings. I write frequently, it just never leaves my computer. I've decided to post these more often. Some are old and some are very emotional ((to me, atleast)). I'd like some feedback if you get the chance. Thanks :)

.... This one's new ....



She wakes up, 3 am, and rolls over. Empty. She’s alone.
Just a few short hours ago she was embedded into his side. Now he’s gone. A wave of rejection rolls over her and she takes a jagged breath. She fights back the tears and runs to the window. She only see’s her solitary car in the driveway. She succumbs to the tears and hides herself beneath the sheets in an attempt to turn back time. I’m dreaming, she thinks, I’ll wake up in the morning and everything will be back to normal. But deep down, she knows that can’t be true. She closes her eyes and drifts off.

Life goes on…

A few weeks later, she sees him. It was just a passing glance, but this moment froze. She was walking in ice cold water. The rejection washes over her once more, and she fights back tears, trying to appear normal. She never loved him; he never hurt her. Yet, she wants to know, she needs to know why he left. A weak smile spreads across her face and she walks on. He gives her a big grin and begins to walk towards her. Oh god, she thinks. Not again, please, not again! She considers sprinting, but decides to remain civil. It can’t be that bad. He envelops her in his arms, warming her to the bone. The blood rushes back to her face and she lets out the breath she didn’t realize she’s been holding. He wants to talk, to see her again. She’s not quite strong enough to say goodbye, and eventually invites him over.
She lets him sit on her couch and gets him a glass of water. He speaks comfortably, as if nothing were wrong. “I’ve missed you, Katie-kins,” he says, using her pet name. Memories rush back, suddenly. They swarm around her, clouding her thoughts. She lets her guard down, allowing him closer. They fall into the old familiar pattern. She no longer thinks, allowing her body to run off instinct. This is too much, she thinks, but it’s too late.
It’s like a scene on a movie screen. Or maybe it’s déjà vu. Once again, its 3 am, and she’s alone. Feeling used, she lies under the sheets and weeps. She cries for her broken heart. Regret is beginning to be a constant companion. “Why?!” she calls out, without waiting to hear an answer. There’s no one to answer. And they said, “This is all it took: just one look.” “No! Never again,” she called out to no one. “Never again.”