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Hello everyone. It has been a while since I have posted anything on this site or since I have even been active. I wonder if anyone actually remembers me... I recognise some of your screen names so that is comforting and there is still a home like quality here. Anyways, this is something I wrote on the spot. I felt inspired or heart broken or something inbetween.
Rated G.
Short Story.
Don't Steal.
It's still all the same. I sitll love her and breathe her and I still smell her on my clothes and yet there she is, with him, thinking about him and wanting him while I say "it's okay, I want you to be happy," and I bite the insides of my cheeks and I scratch the insides of my arms subconsciously (or very consciously) with my fingernails to see how much or little I can feel of it.
I've told myself "I don't love her and I don't need her," and for a few brief moments, sometimes hours, I don't feel anything at all and I've convinced myself that what I've said to myself and everyone else is true. I don't love her. She certainly doesn't love me. How could she when I hurt this much?
Sitting in the chair I realise I am rocking back and forth more and more rapidly, more violently hoping to get some kind of rise or attention, and nothing comes so I get up out of the chair and walk around in front of the tv, in front of the computer, behind the couch, into the bedroom and back out again. Nothing.
Nothing.
This is something I am getting used to. It's all becoming more of a game than anything but I am losing even though I don't realise it. It's not a game for her so I pinch my thighs anxiously hoping for the worry wrinkles to form on her forehead, or the comforting but painful "are you okay?" I think to myself that I will tell her, "no, I'm not okay but I don't think it matters." She will tell me, "of course it matters, what's wrong?" and I will say "nothing," because I want her to wonder about me.
So one day I don't answer my phone. In fact, I turn it off altogether. I feel guilty about it for about half an hour and even start to cry a little, forgetting that I don't actually love her and forgetting that it doesn't pain me to know that she's not going to call so it won't matter if my phone is turned off, so I turn it back on again and dial her number, feeling like I need to apologise for being so selfish. In the mean time, I have one new message from my mother who wants to tell me that I should be dating and going out and having a good time. "No mom," I usually say, "that's not for me."
"Hello?" She answers the phone. "Hi," I answer. I swear sometimes I can hear a low sigh signalling disappointment when my voice comes through the phone and immediately it comes back to me that I don't love her at all and that if she wanted to talk to me she would have called. So I make up and excuse "anyway, I have to go make dinner now," or I tell her my mom is calling. It's all a complete lie. I cry some more because I am weak and I am confused.
I am so in love and it absolutely kills me inside that she is the one who doesn't love me. She is the one who this is all a game to. She is the one who doesn't care if I call or not. So one day I don't come home. One day, I throw my phone into the lake and watch the algae and the sewage and the few sickly looking ducks flow over the place where it made a splash. I wait until the water is still again and I walk towards the forest, not at all caring that I haven't got a compass.
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Compass
