When you've said it (whatever "it" is. however you phrase the rippingtearingthing. the bad thought you don't want to say but lurks and stings anyway) and the words hang in the air and glow redandjaggedspiky. They hurt when they finally touch your skin, in the smoothest places. Resting on the white backs of your knees, the tips of your elbows, the creases of your eyelids. They hurt when they sink in, and you realize that tomorrow you're a differentperson. You can't say, "ohyesthat'smyboyfriend. he'smybestfriend." because half of that isn't true any more, and it's been split down the center so neatly. And even the second part (used to be so steadyandcertain) starts to erode and crumble.
The face on the screen isn't your boyfriend any more, and the air brushes your skin and fills the space where he used to be.