You wake up at half past four in the morning and your eyes feel as if they were rubbed with sandpaper

You wake up at half past four in the morning and your eyes feel as if they were rubbed with sandpaper.

You wake up and turn your head only to find George snoring beside you, oblivious to your gaze focusing on every bare part of his body.

You know you're not acting normal, something has changed. When you feel yourself leaning forward to smell his skin, you fully realize what you're doing and pull your head back.

You know George is not Alex, he's not the hot cocky man you fell in love with in the first place, at least that's what you thought, just because you were horny and you needed some action. Because you felt the urge to expand your lust and you didn't even care to look twice at the face of the man you were sharing your bed and pleasures with.

You know George is not Denny, he's not the guy who would hold you close, tight, when you were in his arms and listening to the sweet harmony of your heartbeats melting with his, mixing with the beep of the LVAD machine and the tidal waves of idealized romance crashing on your pores.

George is not Denny. He is not Alex. George is the guy next door, the cute dork, the one who's not willing to abandon you and unfortunately the one you hadn't even considered an option, an actual choice to take into account.

You regret it now, don't you?

He is with you, in the bed, half naked, like he always is when you intrude in his room and he can't help but to roll over, leaving a void on the left side of the mattress and nestling you in the layers of blankets wrapped softly around your bodies.

He is beside you, like always.

The same position. The same scent. The same guy.

And yet so different.

George comes to you the next day, smiles widely but quickly his expression saddens when he looks at you and you won't even offer him a tiny space on your bed.

It is usually not like this.

You are usually not like this.

Until now, you smiled everytime he walked into your room. You didn't feel bothered when he begged you for some company in the dark hours of the night, when he lay down next to you and stole the comforter, when he made unconscious violent movements while he was resting, which kept you awake. You didn't even care.

"Is something wrong?"

You remain silent.

"What's the matter with you?"

Not one word breaking the uncomfortable white noise and you know you are usually not like this.

You have the key to change this. To have it all.

And suddenly, when you get the courage, just when you are about to tell the truth, when you are determined to release the sugary sensation that has taken place inside of you since you realized what this was all about and show it to him, and everybody to see, you can't.

Reality is too painful to be said outloud. Especially when he might not feel the same way. Especially when you're not sure about yourself either. But mostly, when you don't know if being certain about this is the best thing.

So you frown instead.

"Leave me alone, George."

He blinks, looking at you incredulously because he didn't see that coming. This roughness, he's never seen it. He's never experienced it. Not from you at least.

He's left speechless, wordless, so he turns around and leaves you alone, swimming in the ocean of screaming sensations that overwhelm you and won't set you free.

You can send him away, but you can't escape this.

Plan A was declaring your love. Mission not accomplished.

Plan B is extreme, but quite effective.

Ignoring him, a seemingly easy task to do. Erasing him out of your life, something so simple, you don't even think about the consequences, you don't even pay attention to the difficulty of that action.

After all, you did the same thing when your boyfriend slept with your friend while you were at med school, and your anger and dignity told you that the best way to slight someone was to disregard them.

This is just the same thing. Nothing that you haven't done before.

Eviscerating someone out of the picture is extreme, but in some cases quite effective.

You don't talk to him, you don't look at him, you don't eat with him, you don't chat with him, you don't hang out with him, and you have the nerve to shrug your shoulders and confirm that there's nothing wrong when he asks you, when he pleads and follows your elusive eyes with his own, waiting for an answer.

You repeat to yourself over and over again that this is the best thing you can do and you act as if everything were fine.

The perfect, perfect plan B.

Is there any problem?

Of course.

George is not some random guy you can overlook.

You're hurting him and as a result you're in pain too. He is the one who stood next to you when the Denny debacle happened, the one who hugged you when Alex cheated on you, the one you trust and the one you want to spend the rest of your life with.

So you end up getting what you give. You punch but get beaten at the same time.

And a plan like that, it's impossible to follow for long.

Are you going to keep denying it?

Are you going to sweep it under the rug?

Are you going to repress it?

Are you going to pretend it hasn't changed you?

Are you going to fight against it?

You will surrender eventually.

But good luck.