This photograph is my proof. There was that night when things were great between us and she embraced me, and we were so happy. It did happen. She did love me. Just look, see for yourself.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Proof
This photograph is my proof. There was that night when things were great between us and she embraced me, and we were so happy. It did happen. She did love me. Just look, see for yourself.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Shadows And Regrets
His feet move quickly against the pavement. The beads of sweat sliding down his face. He moves his long dark hair out of his eyes that are now matted to his face.His phone rings but he ignores it. He runs faster. He does not care about the burning in his chest or his calves that feel like they are about to explode. He just runs. The text he got in the bathroom scared the hell out of him. His friends will not know he left. At least not for a while. His back is starting to hurt. He has ran a mile and a half already. Two blocks to go. He is almost home. He thinks he should have driven in his own car. He would have been there by now. He would be holding her and comforting her. He pulls the keys out of his pocket, stickes them in the door and gets in. He quickly starts the car and is off. He grips the wheel hard, in fear of what he will find when he finally makes it to her house.
He pulls up to her house. Puts the car in park and makes his way up the apartment building's stairwell. When he finally reaches her door, he notices that it's slightly cracked. He lightly pushes on it, in fear of what's on the other side and the door opens with a loud squeal. The only sound comng from inside the apartment was the radio, on a station that only played static. An overwhelming feeling of panic flowed through his body instantly. He ran quickly to her bedroom, she wasn't there. The bathroom, she wasn't there. Finally, the kitchen. There she was. Blood all over the floor and in the sink. Lying there lifeless. The tears begin to roll down his blotchy red face. He kneels down next to her and gras her. Holds her in his arms.
He bings to cry, remenicing of the things that lead them to this point in their lives. The things that lead her to this point in her life. The last time they spoke they exchanged words of hate and anger. She was calling him once or twice a day. Texting him every five minutes. She missed him. She loved him. But he was over her. Or so he thought. He wanted nothing to do with her. "They had grown apart", he said. "Sometimes people grow apart and need to move on". And so he did... with a five foot seven, blonde bombshell. "I hate you", she said.You could hear her heart breaking with each sob and every word muttered from her mouth. "You'll regret doing this". He never understood what that meant until now. And until this very moment, he didn't realize how much he really loved her. He lost something more than an ex. He lost his best friend. He lost the love of his life. But it's too late now.
He sits and cries with her in his arms for a while before picking her up and putting her on the couch. He walks into the bathroom and takes his blood stained shirt off. And he stares in the mirror. Where did he go wrong? What was he thinking? Why did this happen? The answers to these questions where all the same. He just didn't care. All he had to do was care. And he didn't. And now look at his situation. He couldn't go back in the living room because seeing her body lying there was ripping a hole in his heart. While he sat there and waited for the police he layed in her bed and smelled her sheets. Her scent was all over them. He pulled the covers back and there was a note. It was just lying there.As he unfolds the thin piece of paper his hands begin to shake... and then he dives in:
""To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy, one must love or love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness."
I've suffered for far too long because of you."
After reading that, he sat and cried for an hour. When he came to the conclusion that he didn't deserve to live a happy life anymore. For all the things he put her through and how he was the reasoning for her untimely ending. He makes his way over to the bathroom and opens the medicine cabinent. In it, her medication. Ambien for sleeping, Pristiq for depression and Lexapro for anxiety. He took a big handful and swallowed. He had clearly chosen his ending. And went into the living room and laid on the floor beside the couch where she lay. After about an hour he begins to get sleepy and feeling sick. As he lay on the verge of death there is a sudden movement on the couch. To his surprise, she is now starring back at him with a devilish grin on her face. He is too sick and weak to react. But in her hand she held a bottle of Tetrodotoxin, which slows your heart rate and lowers the bodies core temperature. And she spoke, "One pill of this and a pill of Ambien. Knocked e out cold and made me look like I was dead." "But the blood", he said with such a frail voice. She laughs, "Pigs blood, bought it from the store. I told you you would regret breaking up with me." And with that, she walked over to the sink and smears water over her eyes to make her mascara run. Then she called the police. And he lay there and watch as the last moments of his life were slipping away. He regreted it. He really did. But it was too late, yet again.
He pulls up to her house. Puts the car in park and makes his way up the apartment building's stairwell. When he finally reaches her door, he notices that it's slightly cracked. He lightly pushes on it, in fear of what's on the other side and the door opens with a loud squeal. The only sound comng from inside the apartment was the radio, on a station that only played static. An overwhelming feeling of panic flowed through his body instantly. He ran quickly to her bedroom, she wasn't there. The bathroom, she wasn't there. Finally, the kitchen. There she was. Blood all over the floor and in the sink. Lying there lifeless. The tears begin to roll down his blotchy red face. He kneels down next to her and gras her. Holds her in his arms.
He bings to cry, remenicing of the things that lead them to this point in their lives. The things that lead her to this point in her life. The last time they spoke they exchanged words of hate and anger. She was calling him once or twice a day. Texting him every five minutes. She missed him. She loved him. But he was over her. Or so he thought. He wanted nothing to do with her. "They had grown apart", he said. "Sometimes people grow apart and need to move on". And so he did... with a five foot seven, blonde bombshell. "I hate you", she said.You could hear her heart breaking with each sob and every word muttered from her mouth. "You'll regret doing this". He never understood what that meant until now. And until this very moment, he didn't realize how much he really loved her. He lost something more than an ex. He lost his best friend. He lost the love of his life. But it's too late now.
He sits and cries with her in his arms for a while before picking her up and putting her on the couch. He walks into the bathroom and takes his blood stained shirt off. And he stares in the mirror. Where did he go wrong? What was he thinking? Why did this happen? The answers to these questions where all the same. He just didn't care. All he had to do was care. And he didn't. And now look at his situation. He couldn't go back in the living room because seeing her body lying there was ripping a hole in his heart. While he sat there and waited for the police he layed in her bed and smelled her sheets. Her scent was all over them. He pulled the covers back and there was a note. It was just lying there.As he unfolds the thin piece of paper his hands begin to shake... and then he dives in:
""To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy, one must love or love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness."
I've suffered for far too long because of you."
After reading that, he sat and cried for an hour. When he came to the conclusion that he didn't deserve to live a happy life anymore. For all the things he put her through and how he was the reasoning for her untimely ending. He makes his way over to the bathroom and opens the medicine cabinent. In it, her medication. Ambien for sleeping, Pristiq for depression and Lexapro for anxiety. He took a big handful and swallowed. He had clearly chosen his ending. And went into the living room and laid on the floor beside the couch where she lay. After about an hour he begins to get sleepy and feeling sick. As he lay on the verge of death there is a sudden movement on the couch. To his surprise, she is now starring back at him with a devilish grin on her face. He is too sick and weak to react. But in her hand she held a bottle of Tetrodotoxin, which slows your heart rate and lowers the bodies core temperature. And she spoke, "One pill of this and a pill of Ambien. Knocked e out cold and made me look like I was dead." "But the blood", he said with such a frail voice. She laughs, "Pigs blood, bought it from the store. I told you you would regret breaking up with me." And with that, she walked over to the sink and smears water over her eyes to make her mascara run. Then she called the police. And he lay there and watch as the last moments of his life were slipping away. He regreted it. He really did. But it was too late, yet again.
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