Am I better off dead? Am I better off a quitter? They say I'm better off now than I ever was with her. It's been a week since she dumped me. She said I didn't love her enough, and she loved me too much. For as long as I live, I will never understand how the brain of a woman works.
Because I do love her enough. I love her more than life itself. Maybe I deserve this for not showing it as much as I thought it did. If I could kick myself in the face, I would.
Every day since then, I've been stuck in this bar a few blocks from where she lives. They say a few drinks will help me to forget her. But I know that's impossible. Nothing I do will ever make me forget those eyes, the way her beautiful blonde hair hung perfectly past her shoulders, her voice . . .
That's why I have to tell her how I feel. I had planned something more romantic, maybe flowers or a big plush teddy bear holding a heart saying “I love you.” Cheesy, I know, but girls like things like that.
I rush out of the double doors of the bar. And my mates are all there trying to calm me down, 'cause I'm shouting your name all over the town. I need to tell her, I keep telling myself. I'm swearing if I go there now, I can change her mind, turn it all around.
She's the only girl I've ever truly loved, and loved me. Why did I ever let her go? What's wrong with me?
I'm an idiot.
And I know that I'm drunk but I’ll say the words, and she'll listen this time even though they’re slurred.
I reach her house, but someone holds me back. “Dude, you don't want to do this. She doesn't want you anymore.”
Harsh, but the words don't hit me as much as they would any other day. He's totally sober, so his judgement is probably way better than mine, but I couldn't care less.
“Shut up, man.” Someone else covers my mouth. “She'll hear you.”
Yea, that's the point.
I attempt to bite Jordan's hand, so I can yell again. It doesn't work, and him and Adam are starting to drag me away from her house.
I quickly reach up and grab onto the hand over my mouth, and bring it down, and shout, “Lyssa!”
Her door flies open, and there she is. They finally let go of me.
She has this look on her face that asks what the hell I'm doing here. She has that crease between her eyebrows, and I just want to climb the small steps on the porch, reach down, and smooth it out for her. Her mouth slightly hangs open.
“Lyssa, I'm sorry,” My words come out slurred, like I thought they would, but I know she knows what I'm saying. “I love you.” If she sees how much I'm hurting, she'll take me back for sure.
Confessed to her I'm still in love, but all I heard was nothing. I know that face. She's over it. She doesn't want me anymore.
But there's still that glimmer of hope. That glimmer of hope in the corner of her eye in the form of a tear.
She lets it fall, but then closes the door. It's done. I wanted words, but all I heard was nothing.
Sometimes love's intoxicating. You're coming down, your hands are shaking, when you realize there's no one waiting.
A/N: This was my first attempt to write a story with a male POV, so please comment to tell me how I did ?
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