She came by to visit today.
The first thing I saw when I turned the corner of the hall is her smile as her eyes met mine.
It’s comforting to see a face that still reacts in joy to mine.
An instant portrait of positive emotions that are all for me.
I sound selfish and narcissistic when I say this,
but,
my heart is motivated to keep beating when I feel that a part of her belongs to only me.
We didn’t talk much.
Tears flowed as she tried to touch my face.
I can only smile in these situations,
although,
I don’t really know why.
Possibly because I have always been the one that the world looks to for comfort and guidance when they feel that they’ve been abandoned.
The one thing that cheers them up is a smile and reassurance that everything will be ok.
Today,
I smiled and reassured the world that everything will be fine,
as I felt like dying inside.
She didn’t notice my pain.
They never do.
to be fair,
I don’t really show it.
I don’t need the sympathy or pity.
What I really want is the answers to solve the problems inside of my head.
Since I was a child I’ve been looking for these answers.
I learned very early through the angry reactions of the older generations that it’s better not to ask any questions they can’t answer.
Especially if their ignorance makes them feel like they are adding poison to the mind of an already depressed child.
Each person is living life through a lens they create.
today,
I want the lens of the woman in front of me to be filled with pleasure and joy.
We see each other once a month
…ever since the incident.
Her eyes move as fast as her lips,
as if the words are visible and she chooses them with her gaze.
As she speaks,
I stare at her lips but hear nothing they say,
my mind drifts to the problems of my life once more like a flashback of depression.
Then,
The question takes over command of my mind:
“Wouldn’t it be better if only one person at this table suffered instead of two?”
Logically,
It makes sense.
Why should two people pay for the price of one’s actions?
It was me who caused the incident,
Why should she be the one crying and hurting?
I look up from her lips to her eyes,
She smiles as I make contact with them.
She always blushes as if I told her an embarassing secret.
She looks away and covers her smile with her hands.
I give her a gentle smile as well.
Its hard to admit,
but,
she makes me happy…
I tell her:
“If I had a million chances to get it right with you,
I would try so hard to only use one.”
Her response:
She covers her whole face with her hands.
I continue to speak:
“I never thought that you would actually care about me.”
She quickly brings down her hands, exposing an expression of shock on her face.
She responds:
“How could you say that?”
I slowly look up to the ceiling with empty eyes and say:
“Because that’s how I feel,
and,
I feel that I can be honest with you”
I don’t look down.
She says my name,
Then chokes on the three words that can change a person’s life.
With my face still pointed to the ceiling,
I raise my hand towards her.
She mimics me.
With both of our hands placed on the glass between us,
a tear begins to build up in my eyes,
so I close them.
My throat starts to feel like it’s closing in on itself.
I clear it and inhale deeply.
exhale slowly.
I choke on my words:
“I so badly wish to know how to be happy and accept your love,
but I have no idea how to be the person you want me to be.
I blame no one for making me this way because at some point,
a man has to assume the responsibilty of his own character.”
I stand up, lift my shirt to expose the scars I have been carving on my ribs:
“and I just,
am not,
that man.”
I sit back down.
“You love a man that hates himself.
You love a man that finds peace in dreams of suicide.
You love a man that believes he doesn’t deserve to be loved.”
Eyes red and overflowing,
jaw clenched and teeth showing,
Shaking her head, She slowly mouthed the words,
“I don’t care”
her throat was too tight to let the words free.
I’m sure the world to her is blurry as she tries to hold eye contact.
I’m angry all of a sudden.
My fists are clenched so tightly,
the ends of my nails begin to stab into the skin of my palms
“Only one person at this table deserves to suffer”
The words are like a fire alarm going off in my head.
I slam my fists on the table and jump to my feet.
I lose complete control of myself and feel as though an entity has entered my body,
leaving me helpless,
rendering me to become a fly on the wall,
a witness to the situation,
the man,
once me,
yelling to the woman that professed her love:
“You don’t even know me!
What the fuck do you know about loving a heartless waste of life?
Whatever game you’re playing,
whatever fantasy you think we’re living in needs to stop.”
The fly on the wall feels his heart drop when he sees the woman sitting across the yelling man,
drop her head into her hands and let out a wallowing cry.
The fly looks at the man and sees a stone face with eyes of passionate fury,
as if the entity possessing it fears the woman will free the imprisoned soul within the man,
causing the parasite to no longer have a home within its favorite host.
The stone man points at the woman sitting across from him:
“Look at me.”
She looks up with red and irritated eyes.
“Young.
Beautiful.
Love.”
He then points to his own chest:
“Disgusting.
Broken.
Dead.”
As if his anger is contagious, the woman begins to look at him with an equal fury,
but suddenly,
she stopped,
as if she looked into a mirror and hated the image.
She surrendered her rage and choked up another cry.
She covers her mouth as if trying to hold back vomit.
she stands up and walks away,
relying on the walls for balance,
until she disappeared from the man’s view.
My vision went black and suddenly I was transported back into my original body.
sweaty,
limp,
weak.
I fall to my knees and uncontrollably cry,
as I whisper in between breathes:
” Only one person,
needs to suffer”
I convince myself to believe,
one day,
the beautiful woman that sat in front of me will find love,
with a man that knows how to accept and reciprocate it.
I know deep down in my heart and soul,
that man is not me and I refuse to lead an innocent soul into despair.
“You wont even try“
said a voice from within.
I respond to it:
“No. With 1 million chances, I would kill myself if I waste even 1.”
nahlabels 