Gone

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This was a piece I made trying to use a different writing style. It is narrated by the main character yet jumps between present and past as if we were watching him tell himself a story of how he gained and lost his first love.

Submitted: June 20, 2017

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Submitted: June 20, 2017

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I'm glad you're gone. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. The sun has barely come out of hiding beneath the horizon. The clouds are drifting so slowly in their dance of pinks and blues; oranges and reds like a soft lit candle fire. Wait, I'm cold. The cold of night still creeps through my fingertips and feet. I feel stiff and numb as though I've tightly grabbed a ball of snow with no gloves. Where am I lying? What am I doing here on this cold damp grass starring at the fading morning sky? I'm...on a bed of grass, wet with morning dew. My clothes are soaked, and I've come for a visit. 
Things weren't always like this. I met her in freshman year of college. She was an Art major. I was introduced to her by a friend at a social gathering in the campus. By social gathering, I do mean wild frat party where I was too drunk to remember anything sort of interaction I had with any human that night. The next day I woke up next to her. Long, black, smooth hair tickled my nose as I woke. Her face was so close to mine I could feel her gentle breaths escaping her nostrils and caressing my cheeks. Who was this gorgeous girl? Oh, that's right, the friend of a friend. My roommate Michael introduced me to her. What was her name again? When did we end up back in my room? Must've been a crazy night. Her face is so soft and pale like an angel, I could stare at her forever. Oh no, she's waking up. I must've moved around too much. I don't want her to think I am staring at her while she sleeps. Too late, she made eye contact. Her eyes are like great blue saphires penetrating right through me. What do I do? She's so pretty but I haven't gotten a chance to know her. Is she going to think I'm some sort of creep? Is she going to start a rumor about how I stared at her while she slept, breathing heavy with sinful desires? Oh no, what if she yells rape? My life is over! IT'S OVER!! IT'S OVE- huh? Wait...she's smiling.
It wasn't always so bad. I was flunking most of my classes but she always knew what to say to make me feel like I wasn't a complete idiot. She motivated me in all the right ways. Never pressured me like my perfect father did. I couldn't stand him. Big shot lawyer. Always thought I wouldn't amount to anything because I wanted to be everything he wasn't. I was a black sheep in his eyes. She saw through the black wool and believed there was potential in me. I wanted to write and perform music. It had been my dream since I was very young to perform infront of a huge croud. Everyone always told me I was living with my head in the clouds, but not her, she grounded me. First I had to graduate from college before I could really dive myself into music. I was only in college to make my mother proud. Studying a few years while I make real plans for tours and concerts. Even my mother disapproved of my dream. But not her, she always said I'd be big. She was always by my side. She was perfect.
It wasn't always perfect. After dating for 3 years things started to change. The feeling of trying to impress, the desire to not mess up around the person you love starts to fade. You start becoming comfortable. So what if we haven't gone out in two or three weeks? I've been busy. Wait, why are you yelling? Why am I yelling back? This isn't who we are. This isn't the girl I fell for. This isn't the girl who smiled at me back then. So is it me then? Have I been so caught up with my comfort and laziness that I have neglected you? Am I not making you feel special like I once did? I understand what I have to do. I have to take you out and call you beautiful again. I have to change it up in the bedroom now and then and please you. Lighten your world and buy you flowers for no reason; sing a song I wrote just for you and shout to the heavens that I love you! So, why am I still yelling? Wait, are you crying? Was it something I said?
It wasn't always a success. My band was starting to kick off and gigs after gigs were coming in. I could tell she was proud of me but at the same time, she was unhappy. I was closing her out of my heart because I was too focused on myself. I knew I was in the wrong but something inside of me kept making me defend my actions and I turned her into the target. Maybe you should go out more! Maybe you need more friends! Stop hassling me for attention! You're too clingy... What am I saying? I knew they were all lies I told myself to keep myself from admitting the truth. Admitting I was wrong would just not be human. I had to convince myself that what I was doing was for the best. That she has to conform to how I am and accept this life as it is, with me. I need to put her in a mold just like...just like my father did to me.
It wasn't always a dream. Sleeping became impossible. Another nightmare woke me up. Every night it's the same one. Staring at my own reflection, but what I saw was not human. I saw the devil that was lurking in me. Maybe it's the late night gigs. Maybe it's the lines of cocaine I snort down to take the edge off. Maybe it's the limitless drinks of alcohol I chug down to liven up my night! Maybe that's why I can't sleep, right? Maybe that's why I get nightmares. Or maybe it's the dry tears on your face and the sad look you have on while you sleep next to me. Who’s sad face is this laying next to me? I don’t know you anymore. We’re like perfect strangers sharing a bed. My addiction, my career, was slowly carving away at your soul. You didn't even paint anymore. You just drank...and cried.
It wasn't always my fault. You remember, don't you? When I sat there crying on your lap, begging you to forgive me. I stopped doing drugs, I quit the band, I stopped drinking. I was tired of watching you cry yourself to sleep. I was tired of making you so depressed you couldn't find the muse to paint. Jesus! I'm sorry! I know I can change! I'm so sorry! You keep repeating that you forgive me, that everything will be alright. So then why?! Why am I tormented by the thought of losing you! Why is my heart being torn by the claws of my demons, shredding all hope that we can ever go back to that smile that morning when we first met! Why am I so alone when I'm laying here on your lap. Can it be? Can I physically feel that your love for me has faded away?! Who's voice is that? In my head. It sounds like you! A shaking echo in my heart and mind whispering..."End It".
It wasn't going to last forever. I got a normal job. Nothing luxurious but it put food in the fridge. You started smiling again. We started going out again. Is this happiness? Can it truly be? Are we going back to how we used to be? The yelling has finally been silenced and replaced with casual talks about our days. The fighting has ceased and moments of laughter found its way back into our daily routine. It almost seems perfect. It was all feeling just so perfect. So then why? Why did I come home early that day? Why did I find you in bed with him?! Michael! How long?! How long has this been going on?! I see you crying and yelling but I can't hear anything. My heart feels void. A year? You've been doing this for how long behind my back? I wanted to say I can't believe it but of course, I should've known. I should've know...suddenly she was smiling, suddenly she was happy. It wasn't me making her happy, no. I couldn't fill the shoes of the man she wanted me to be so she filled the hole I created with the lust of another man. It was me! I cheated myself! So then why?! Why am I on top of Michael? Why can't I stop hitting him?! Why does the warmth of his blood feel so good against my knuckles. He's not even moving anymore but I can’t stop...it feels, good.
It wasn't going to end well that day. I was crazed in rage. She dragged Michael to her car and she ran back inside. Her yelling was still inaudible. I sat there on the recliner with a bottle of liquor. Watching her scream and cry yet so few words penetrated my shock. “Sorry” “my fault” “Couldn't do this anymore”. Her words echoed through the room as if she was yelling from across a canyon. She was packing a bag and heading towards the car. She's leaving me. She and Michael are driving off and now I was alone and for a second I felt it. A strange sensation I hadn't felt in a long time overtook me. I knew I had to enjoy every second I could of it. In the midst of all that fighting and chaos, even though she was leaving me, even though she was leaving me for another man, in the midst of that silence and loneliness, I felt something I hadn't felt in years. Something I haven't felt since I saw her smile at me. Peace.
It was short lived. Peace. Such a fragile reality. So easily disrupted by the ripples of our misfortunes and the chaos of life. Peace. like a small flame in a hurricane, impossible to keep alive. It's been days since that day. The day she left. The day she gave me an ounce of peace. So quickly, it was ripped from my heart. Why couldn't it have ended differently? Why did the peace have to be blown away? You are gone. That was a reality I knew could not be changed. I keep telling myself that I don't miss you at all. Maybe I wouldn’t if things would have ended differently. I had excepted you leaving. I could keep living my life if I knew you were living yours. I could've moved on with my life and made something of myself and not feel so guilty for dragging you through the mud. I wanted that peace I felt again. But you made it impossible. Didn't you?
I'm glad you're gone. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. The sun has barely come out of hiding beneath the horizon. The clouds are drifting so slowly in their dance of pinks and blues; oranges and reds like a soft lit candle fire. I realize, now, as I lay in this cold wet grass, where I am, and why I can't find peace. Why did I come home early that day? Why'd you leave the house with Michael? Why did you drive off so fast? If only you would have driven just a little slower maybe you wouldn't have passed that red light. Perhaps then, that tired trucker wouldn't have T-boned your car. Maybe then I wouldn't have gotten the call that afternoon. The call that stripped away any possibility of peace. The call that would let me know that you had not made it through the collision. Why’d you smile at me that morning after we met? If not for then...I wouldn't be laying here in this cemetery next to your tomb, crying.


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