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"You never realize what you had until it's gone".
Isn't that how that old adage went? That you would never be able to look at all the good you have in your life, until you're shit out of luck, and drowning in the gutter, right? She wondered about who it was in history that had made that observation, because it certainly had been around for a long time. Even in this modern age, with all of the iPhones, computers, and other technological advances, it was still holding true.
She sighed, getting up off her knees and looked around the apartment: half full boxes littered the living room floor. The walls were barren, and the furniture gone. Here she was, striding the rift between two worlds, and two different times in her life --one ending, one beginning. She knew what she had lost, but she didn't realize how much it was affecting her. Six months ago, there was someone here to hold her hand, to kiss her lips... that was all gone now. Nothing was left, and even she herself was only barely there.
She smiled more often, and laughed more heartily than she had in the past year or so, but there was always something missing. The laughs were sad, the smiles hollow. What was gone was a smile that would never return, a touch that would never be felt again, and without those... she felt incomplete. There would always be something missing.
When she told him it was time to leave, she thought it was the right thing to do, that it would be for their own good. She still felt that way, considering how it all left her feeling in the first place, but she was left wondering if she could actually do it. Some times, she felt strong enough to make it through the days, that the world lay out in front of her, in an endless parade of opportunity, and all she needed to do was to step forward with her hand out, and grab it. Others... well, she felt that hollow spot in her heart get a little bigger, threatening to crumble in on herself, bringing her to her knees, and to a quiet, simple end.
Whether that end found her begging him to come back, or found her stretched out on her bed with a bottle of alcohol and pills, she didn't know. The thought of harm frightened her, but only mildly in comparison to her breaking down and, reuniting with her ex. Why waking up next to that man frightened her more than never waking up at all, she didn't know. It simply did. It was an unexplainable pit in her stomach that gnawed at the emptiness in her heart, making that cavern bigger and bigger with each nibble.
Maybe it was simply the fear of failure, the fear of being weak, and having to show it to everyone. Show everyone that she couldn't conquer a simple thing like a breakup, and that she probably never would.
With a huff, the woman dumped an armful of items into a box, and kicked it to the side, hurrying into the kitchen. Reaching for her coffee pot, she poured the last of it into a half full cup, and almost threw it into the microwave, stabbing in the numbers to heat it up.
Her heart was racing, and her throat was closing up with fresh tears trying to work their way to the surface. She had no idea what was upsetting her so badly, making her so angry and so defeated at the same time. What was so bad with going back to an ex? Lots of people did it. Some people made a habit of it, made a life out of it. Even a few of her relatives had, at one point, or another.
But that wasn't just it, was it? She didn't know. She craved that touch, that voice, that heartbeat like a junkie craved their next hit. She was an addict, and he was her drug.
'So this is what it feels like to detox...' she though, watching the slowly revolving cup in the microwave. As it stopped and beeped, she pulled it out, breathing in the steam as though it were a medicine, a potion that would drive him away from her thoughts. Something that would end the addiction that was so deeply seeded into her heart, soul, and psyche that it would probably never leave.
After a moment, she walked back into the living room, cup in hand, looking down into the closest box, to see what else she could fit into it before it could be taped up. Staring back at her was a framed picture of a a couple closely nestled into each other, sleeping soundly. Them. She stared at the picture, the tears, and bile welling up in her throat again, as memories flashed through her head. Good days. Bad days. Bittersweet days. So much warmth, so many tears.
Turning on her heel, she walked back into the kitchen, dumping out the coffee in the sink, and reached into the nearly empty fridge, instead. Pulling out a half-bottle of liquor, she stared at it, the glass starting to sweat in the warm air. 'Addictions never truly leave, right?' she thought, starting to sweat a little herself. 'You just have to end up displacing them with something else. That's how you stop being addicted... right?'
As she stared at the bottle, words rang in her ears, and phantom fingers touched her skin. Anger bubbled, and tears of guilt and sadness started to fall as she slowly slipped into another hateful, self-destructive frenzy.
'One kiss, is a kiss too many...'
Unscrewing the bottle as fast as she could, she tipped the mouth against her lips, and disappeared.
Isn't that how that old adage went? That you would never be able to look at all the good you have in your life, until you're shit out of luck, and drowning in the gutter, right? She wondered about who it was in history that had made that observation, because it certainly had been around for a long time. Even in this modern age, with all of the iPhones, computers, and other technological advances, it was still holding true.
She sighed, getting up off her knees and looked around the apartment: half full boxes littered the living room floor. The walls were barren, and the furniture gone. Here she was, striding the rift between two worlds, and two different times in her life --one ending, one beginning. She knew what she had lost, but she didn't realize how much it was affecting her. Six months ago, there was someone here to hold her hand, to kiss her lips... that was all gone now. Nothing was left, and even she herself was only barely there.
She smiled more often, and laughed more heartily than she had in the past year or so, but there was always something missing. The laughs were sad, the smiles hollow. What was gone was a smile that would never return, a touch that would never be felt again, and without those... she felt incomplete. There would always be something missing.
When she told him it was time to leave, she thought it was the right thing to do, that it would be for their own good. She still felt that way, considering how it all left her feeling in the first place, but she was left wondering if she could actually do it. Some times, she felt strong enough to make it through the days, that the world lay out in front of her, in an endless parade of opportunity, and all she needed to do was to step forward with her hand out, and grab it. Others... well, she felt that hollow spot in her heart get a little bigger, threatening to crumble in on herself, bringing her to her knees, and to a quiet, simple end.
Whether that end found her begging him to come back, or found her stretched out on her bed with a bottle of alcohol and pills, she didn't know. The thought of harm frightened her, but only mildly in comparison to her breaking down and, reuniting with her ex. Why waking up next to that man frightened her more than never waking up at all, she didn't know. It simply did. It was an unexplainable pit in her stomach that gnawed at the emptiness in her heart, making that cavern bigger and bigger with each nibble.
Maybe it was simply the fear of failure, the fear of being weak, and having to show it to everyone. Show everyone that she couldn't conquer a simple thing like a breakup, and that she probably never would.
With a huff, the woman dumped an armful of items into a box, and kicked it to the side, hurrying into the kitchen. Reaching for her coffee pot, she poured the last of it into a half full cup, and almost threw it into the microwave, stabbing in the numbers to heat it up.
Her heart was racing, and her throat was closing up with fresh tears trying to work their way to the surface. She had no idea what was upsetting her so badly, making her so angry and so defeated at the same time. What was so bad with going back to an ex? Lots of people did it. Some people made a habit of it, made a life out of it. Even a few of her relatives had, at one point, or another.
But that wasn't just it, was it? She didn't know. She craved that touch, that voice, that heartbeat like a junkie craved their next hit. She was an addict, and he was her drug.
'So this is what it feels like to detox...' she though, watching the slowly revolving cup in the microwave. As it stopped and beeped, she pulled it out, breathing in the steam as though it were a medicine, a potion that would drive him away from her thoughts. Something that would end the addiction that was so deeply seeded into her heart, soul, and psyche that it would probably never leave.
After a moment, she walked back into the living room, cup in hand, looking down into the closest box, to see what else she could fit into it before it could be taped up. Staring back at her was a framed picture of a a couple closely nestled into each other, sleeping soundly. Them. She stared at the picture, the tears, and bile welling up in her throat again, as memories flashed through her head. Good days. Bad days. Bittersweet days. So much warmth, so many tears.
Turning on her heel, she walked back into the kitchen, dumping out the coffee in the sink, and reached into the nearly empty fridge, instead. Pulling out a half-bottle of liquor, she stared at it, the glass starting to sweat in the warm air. 'Addictions never truly leave, right?' she thought, starting to sweat a little herself. 'You just have to end up displacing them with something else. That's how you stop being addicted... right?'
As she stared at the bottle, words rang in her ears, and phantom fingers touched her skin. Anger bubbled, and tears of guilt and sadness started to fall as she slowly slipped into another hateful, self-destructive frenzy.
'One kiss, is a kiss too many...'
Unscrewing the bottle as fast as she could, she tipped the mouth against her lips, and disappeared.
The name is just a working title, but the story is pretty much all there. A grim little slice of life, where everyone's lights that they are shining into your life are just making the shadows you face all that much darker. The ending needs a little work, but it ended about as well as it could without me illustrating it.
© 2014 - 2024 outlawgirl265
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