‘How did I end up here?’ I wondered to myself staring up at the ceiling trying to block everything else in my life out and solely focus on memorizing everything about the ceiling.

The sound of my belt buckle being undone was forgotten as I followed a small crack as it wound its way from the corner ending about a foot later.

My pants being removed was forgotten as I memorized the areas where the blue paint from the walls had accidentally been brushed onto the ceiling.

The knowledge of what was being done to my body was pushed aside to make room for the brush strokes left in the white paint.

I didn’t return to my senses until hours later when the street light outside my window came on, flooding the room in a pale yellow glow. He had left right after it was finished thankfully and when I checked my cellphone I saw the expected messages.

‘Thanks for today, you were amazing’

‘I just got home’

‘Love you so much’

They were the same messages I always received after allowing this to happen and while I used to reply to them I no longer had the energy to continue to pretend anymore. When I gave up, I assumed that everything would work out and that I wouldn’t have to bother ending things myself. Somehow though the relationship had endured and even though I had not texted or spoken to him in two weeks, he continued on as if nothing was different.

Everything was different though and none of it mattered.