This Is My Exit

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
We have all been there. Finding that special someone that makes you feel like they are the one. The ones with a past significant other that did them wrong. You find its your job to prove to them that you can be better than they ever could. But in the end, things change and things happen. Mostly not for the best. This is that type of story. Partially based on true events, partially bullshit.

Submitted: March 13, 2016

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Submitted: March 13, 2016

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Yes.

I heard you,

Loud and clear.

You made your point.

I get it,

It’s over.

We’re over.

Just like you said.

But what bothers me is that the idea didn’t come from your head, but his.

The one you swore you were done with.

The one you told me was an asshole.

The one you said stomped on your heart and ripped it to shreds, and left it outside of the apartment that you once shared with him.

The one that made you want to never date a guy like that again.

He showed you the exit.

He showed you your stop.

That’s when you found me.

That’s when you told me I was different.

You said I was nice,

You said I was funny,

And you said I was sweet,

You told your friends that I was a great guy.

That I knew how to make you laugh, and would never make you cry.

You would brag to them how much fun we could have by just sitting around and talking about life while we listened to your playlist with the same songs over, and over again because whatever made you happy, made me happy.

And whatever made you sad, made me sad.

Whenever you were angry, I would try to stay on your side.

Whenever you were depressed, I would try my best to keep you from breaking down.

I’d buy you flowers that didn’t make you sneeze up a storm.

And I wouldn’t buy you chocolates because I knew how much you hated them, but I bought you vanilla ice cream instead, and hoped that you would share with me because, hell, I love vanilla too.

We could sit in silence and let the room just fill up with our presence. Knowing you were there was all I needed. Words didn’t have to be said to know that you wanted to be where I was, and vice versa.

Your skin was cold while mine was warm, so you’d huddle up close to me to keep yourself from freezing while I shook and shivered with your very touch, but I didn’t care because all I wanted to do was lay there with you as close as possible, because being around you was super freaking awesome.

You would read to me in bed from your stash of various books to help me sleep because insomnia was a creeping illness to me, and your sweet lovable voice would sooth me to sleep with ease.

We wouldn’t just have sex, we would make love. It would mean more than just pleasure because to you it was the most beautiful, and most intimate thing in the world, and nothing would bring us closer together than this.

You didn’t like the sun because the light hurt your eyes, so we would cherish those cloudy days and listen to rain fall as we watched horror movies all day, or until you fell asleep because sometimes you just couldn’t hang. But that was okay.

Because as long as you were around life made sense, and everything felt right.

I would make promises to you some wild, and some ridiculous.

I would promise to marry you in the woods because you love nature and all of its glory and it was too mainstream to do it inside a building, even though almost every romantic movie we watched was outside but who cares we’re different.

I would promise to give you a library. A humongous magnificent library filled with all of your favorite books and ones that you have yet to read. I would want it for the aesthetics, but you would want it for the knowledge and fairy tales that they held. For it would take you your whole life to make even the slightest dent of even one shelf, maybe two.

I promised you my world, for I wanted to share it with you. All of my favorite things like Star Wars, and comic books, and video games. Everything I adored, I wanted to share it with you. I wanted you, and only you. I loved you.

You started to hate those words.

Suddenly our silences bothered you,

Your playlist changed,

Horror movies were getting old,

And the sun wasn’t so bad.

Then his name came up on your phone but I didn’t want to say anything because if I did then it would become real. My fears, my worries, they would come to life.

You would come home late.

And yes I would know. I’ve got insomnia remember?

You seemed unhappy, so I was unhappy.

When you got angry with me, I had to switch sides so that I could defend myself from your barrage of fiery rage.

Then I yelled at you for the first time.

Then you yelled at me for the 10th.

Then you would cry, and I couldn’t stop it.

Then I got depressed, and started to break down.

Then I saw you with him in our bed.

The place where you would hold me for warmth when your own skin was trying to freeze you into a Popsicle.

Him.

The guy you’re obviously not done with.

The one who isn’t such an asshole.

The one that stomped on your heart and ripped it to shreds and left it outside of the apartment that you once shared with him because he realized . . . he made a mistake.

The one that you want to date again.

He showed you the entrance,

You climbed aboard,

And I lost you.

That’s when you told me, “He’s different now.”

He's changed,

He's nicer,

He's sweeter.

You didn’t say he was funny, so jokes on you.

Your friends are confused, but you tell them that things change, that things happen.

You tell them that the other guy, me, I don’t even get a name, was starting to get old and boring and unsatisfactory to your needs. Bullshit.

So you’re leaving with him.

You take everything that you own except for the bed, which is really fucked up, because now I can’t even sleep in it without thinking of what you did, let alone even set foot in the room.

It’s my apartment but you’re the one stomping on my heart,

Ripping it to shreds,

And leaving it on the damn carpet, and its going to stain!

I can say you’re making a huge mistake and call you horrible names.

I could yell at you and cry streams of tears for you, and beg you not go.

But I’ll tell you something.

Something that you wouldn’t expect for me to say.

You might be walking out that door, but I’m the one leaving.

I’m leaving you.

I’m leaving our garbage can of memories with you so that you can see what you are throwing away.

I see my exit.

I see my stop.

I am choosing to get off,

So you can sink down alone with the relationship we used to have

This is my exit.

This is my stop.

That’s when I met her.

And she can stay awake for a horror movie marathon, while sharing her vanilla ice cream with me, so you can suck it!

 

-M.R.K.


© Copyright 2017 Matthew Ryan Kelly (CK). All rights reserved.