Funny? Nah. Pathetic? Hell yeah.
I haven’t seen you in exactly ten months and nothing has changed here, but I know everything has changed for you. Blood Oath being signed to an actual record label is all anyone can talk about in Southwold. You guys are already legends here as far as we’re concerned. I heard you guys dropped a new single for the upcoming album you are working on. Mum told me she read that it went to number one on the Billboard Hot 100. That is huge, Risk. Huge. I’m so happy for you and the guys, I mean that with my whole heart. I wear my earphones everywhere I go just so I don’t hear your voice by accident. I don’t listen to the radio anymore. I’m afraid that if I hear your voice, something inside of me will shatter.
Keep chasin’, rock star.
Text message #39
Frankie: I woke up today and I forgot that everything was different. For a few seconds, I thought you were still my boyfriend and that when I rolled over, I would see your handsome face on the pillow next to me. When I remembered that we broke up and you moved away, it felt like a kick in the teeth.
I did a silly thing after you left, you know?
You left one of your hoodies here by mistake when you collected your things and I put it inside one of those airtight bags to keep your smell safe. I’ve opened it twice, just for a few seconds, so I could inhale your scent. I have it sealed up tight because I’m so scared the smell will disappear one day. I miss it so much. I miss you so much. The reality that you’re gone from my life is breaking me, but I know it’s all for the best. You couldn’t stay in Southwold and I can’t leave. It’s what’s meant to be, but it still fucking hurts.
Keep chasin’, rock star.
Text message #73
Frankie: I didn’t think talking to ‘you’ would be worth my while, but it’s actually helping me. It’s been fifteen months since I last saw or spoke to you. Today I’m missing you really badly and I have to send this message to get this off my chest. It’s crazy but I’ve started to notice that I don’t feel as sad as I did when you first left and that’s really good, Risk.
There were weeks where I wouldn’t get out of bed after you left. Missing you hurts like hell. Loving you hurts like fucking hell. I have hope though, like there is light at the end of this dark tunnel I’m walking through. One day I’ll be able to listen to your songs and see you on TV and I’ll think, ‘Get ’em, Risk.’ Until that day, I’m just going to keep doing this for my sanity’s sake.
Keep chasin’, rock star.
Text message #142
Frankie: I was walking down Parade Road earlier today and I couldn’t believe what I saw. On the ground was a magazine, and on the cover was you with that Kigi model, or whatever her name is. This is the first time in two years that I had seen evidence of you being with another girl. Anna and Hannah tell me what, and who, you’re up to whenever they get the chance but for the most part, I tune everything about you out.
I’ve cried all day. You’re moving on from me. I’m angry with you and I have no right to be, I know that, but I’m still angry with you. I’m so hurt, so fucking hurt, because I still love you more than all of the stars in the night sky.
Half-naked and drunk off your arse leaving a club – you’re not even legal there yet! – with a bunch of people you likely don’t even know is your new norm now, is it? It’s considered cool in Hollywood, huh? FYI, it just means you’re a dumb arse here. Please don’t contract an STD, May’s mum will kill you. Happy 20th birthday.
Keep chasin’, rock star.
Text message #189
Frankie: I redecorated the cottage today. I’ve modernised it with a couple of coats of pure white paint and I got new furniture. I got rid of everything with Michael’s permission. I love you, but I need to clear out my living space. Right now, I look at a piece of furniture and I remember how you did something on it, or near it, and it’s slowly driving me up the wall. The hardest thing to get rid of was the bed and mattress because we made love for the first time on them both but it’s time for a new start.
I need to try something, anything, to help me not feel so broken inside.
Keep chasin’, rock star.
Text message #248
Frankie: Three years. We broke up three years ago today. I haven’t seen your handsome, freckled face in person in 1,095 days. Yeah, I’ve been counting. On one hand, I can’t believe it’s been three years, and, on the other, I can’t believe it’s not more. Some days feel like minutes and others like decades. God. I miss you, Risk.
Keep chasin’, rock star.
Text message #303
Frankie: I got a promotion today and a pretty sweet raise. You’re the former boyfriend of . . . wait for it . . . the head waitress of Mary Well’s diner. Eat your heart out, Keller.
Keep chasin’, rock star.
Text message #346
Frankie: Guess who got caught in a bloody downpour? Yours truly. I’m literally soaked to the bone and I’m as cold as ice as I type this message, but I can’t help but laugh. It reminded me of the time we got caught in the downpour not long after we started dating and when we got to my house and you realised my mum was at work, you convinced me to undress and share your body heat so I wouldn’t get sick. Do you remember? You copped more
