A paradox. A hot day, with an icy undercurrent. Something that appears to be simple, but when you’re caught up in the whirlwind of emotions, it’s far from the kind of cold, hard logic that I’d come to appreciate. The female variety have the ability to make you think one thing.. when in fact, the thing they truly are is quite different.
I looked across the window. Gazing into the sunkissed horizon, wondering what I’d done to have you taken from me. But I knew, as I’d always known. It didn’t seem fair that somehow temptation stopped me from the temptation of you. Another paradox.
She stood across the hall and gazed up from behind the radiant glow of pregnancy; if two years is enough to get over someone, this would be the acid test. I felt the same kind of nerves visiting her that I’d felt on the fateful day that it all ended. She gave me a glance remiscent of a half-forgotten love plucked from a dusty, broken book of erotic memoirs. But a glance is a glance, and to think of it as the catalyst, the spark to light the fire again; this would be one mistake too many, even for my own pitiful standards.
Her sister sat down, laid back and let out a sigh of sharp realisation that I still hadn’t done it. I still hadn’t got over her. The words left unsaid spoke more than a thousand pictures ever could; and if a picture speaks a thousand words, my amateur calculations say... that’s a lot. Trying to think was a skill I lost a long time ago; no longer can I apply simple logic to life. Life isn’t logical; it’s a heartless pit that we all have to endure. All the time spent trying, but there’s still a gaping void where my heart once laid. The feelings were still as strong as that cold February Valentines when I felt her breath run down my next just moments before she left me cold; freezing and alone.
Questions about who I am, questions about what I was. Where I was. Why was the sky blue? What is the mystery of the yeti? Did I know the muffin man? I’m not sure it even really mattered.
Although maybe a muffin would help. Just the one. Maybe even a box.. Or a pancake. Drizzling in searing hot treacle, like the ones that you’d haphazardly shared with me the very first time we met. Eating doesn’t feel the same as it used to; your eyes looking at me while I trot down a cake, making me feel the kind of guilt that a million life sentences would struggle to muster. Now, guilt free, I have the kind of appetite that could put a small farming community out of business. But the appetite I have for your companionship is something quite different.
Everything reminds me of you. From the gentle whisper of your name in the soft summer breeze, to the harsh, cold winters when I can’t feel your warm locks next to mine. The way we’d all comment on your latest hairstyle, despite the fact that I couldn’t even tell a difference.
I see you everywhere. When I drive, I look at other faceless souls and see you, hidden in the shadows behind them. The way you smile as you walk along, jostling from side to side with your plump belly wobbling in the shade. But through it all, you were beautiful. You became more than just yourself, a primitive being, a highly evolved animal. You were the angel sent from the heavens above, here to save me from myself; from my own destructive nature. A sociopath at best, a loner at worst, you’d shown me the values of friendship, warmth and kindness.
My earliest memories are not of anything specific. They’re more like memories of emotions as opposed to events. Feelings of abandonment; of loneliness, of hatred. Let’s just pretend that life is like a game of cards. Except the cards that you and I are dealt are fine blown glass, and as we build friendships and trust, the bond between me and you, we turn over more and more cards, and maybe someday something happens, something I can’t even describe, and the cards are swept from the table, shattering into a billion pieces that could never be put back together. But wasn’t the whole point in the first place just to play a game of cards?
I was left asking myself some serious questions. Questions that I knew if I’d asked when I had the chance, I’d have ended up in bigger trouble than I am now. Or maybe not.. maybe the emotional turmoil and horror that I chose to put myself through wouldn’t have existed. Maybe you’d have seen me for who I am, if I hadn’t made the wrong decision. Decisions
Why did I choose to fall in love with you? Why did I choose to become the soulmate of another, and push you out of my life?
Why oh why, do you have to be a Labrador?
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