His phone has been off for the past week, not wanting to deal with the reminder of a civilized life. The most amusing part to him was that he had no missed calls, no messages, nothing. Obviously no one wanted the reminder of an uncivilized life. He had the constant illusion that she would call. That maybe, when he was at his lowest point, his phone would start it's once familiar vibration. He fantasized about picking it up, her number trying to reach him, her voice whispering "I miss you."
Fuck it.
The problem with him is that he would do this exact thing. Only to get more and more disappointed, bringing himself further into the hole he chose to dig. He hated being upset, but he loved hoping. It would bring him comfort, a sudden joy with all the expectation of it coming true. She never called.
Fuck it.
Somehow, he alienated everyone because of her. Friends that used to gladly share a drink with him now choose to avoid him, unable to understand how he could fight for something that was so cruel to him. Scared of the reality of a broken heart.
He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, inspecting the gritty stubble that outlined his mouth. They used to stand in front of this mirror daily. She had a knack for judging their reflections. Sometimes it was "We're so sexy together" or maybe just a smile. Other times she would mumble "You look so healthy, look at me..." or "We aren't made for each other."
He stepped into the shower, looked at the empty shampoo bottle, and stepped back out. What a pathetic bastard he was. He could easily understand why people chose to avoid him. He drowns in a majestic potion of depression and pride, unwilling to climb out. As much as he hated this, he loved it. He can put himself through this misery but it was for love. So righteous, right? He was suffering because he doesn't want to give up. But he won't give up because he doesn't want to suffer. The paradox of his thoughts ate away as it has for the past year.
Sure, there have been other girls. He had always gotten hurt when they'd leave him, but once he knew it was over for good, he could easily move on. She though, she was different. She was able to break his heart time and time again, and he'd keep trying to choose between his dignity and his happiness. She steals all his dreams.
Fuck it.
The problem with him is that he would do this exact thing. Only to get more and more disappointed, bringing himself further into the hole he chose to dig. He hated being upset, but he loved hoping. It would bring him comfort, a sudden joy with all the expectation of it coming true. She never called.
Fuck it.
Somehow, he alienated everyone because of her. Friends that used to gladly share a drink with him now choose to avoid him, unable to understand how he could fight for something that was so cruel to him. Scared of the reality of a broken heart.
He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, inspecting the gritty stubble that outlined his mouth. They used to stand in front of this mirror daily. She had a knack for judging their reflections. Sometimes it was "We're so sexy together" or maybe just a smile. Other times she would mumble "You look so healthy, look at me..." or "We aren't made for each other."
He stepped into the shower, looked at the empty shampoo bottle, and stepped back out. What a pathetic bastard he was. He could easily understand why people chose to avoid him. He drowns in a majestic potion of depression and pride, unwilling to climb out. As much as he hated this, he loved it. He can put himself through this misery but it was for love. So righteous, right? He was suffering because he doesn't want to give up. But he won't give up because he doesn't want to suffer. The paradox of his thoughts ate away as it has for the past year.
Sure, there have been other girls. He had always gotten hurt when they'd leave him, but once he knew it was over for good, he could easily move on. She though, she was different. She was able to break his heart time and time again, and he'd keep trying to choose between his dignity and his happiness. She steals all his dreams.
