02-11-2010, 09:08 PM
So you just post it here? Okay then... I tried a different writing style so it seems a bit awkward..
♥ I Stitched a Tale! ♥
Username: Stress
Word Count: 720
Theme: Tear Jerker
Entry: Never Enough
And so he left, turning harshly on his heel and walking away, for the hundreth time; for the final time.
He vanished through the doorway, and the door clicked soundlessly behind him.
I stood in our -now only my- room. The floor and tables were littered with trinkets from all over the globe, and yet it felt barren, empty of anything even a little bit important, because it was. The first, and last, important thing in my life had just walked through that door, had just walked away – forever away from me. No sound could be heard, nothing but the wild wail of my writhing heart. My eyes darkened with confusion, stared at the closed door, tracing each inch of the solid wood with my determined gaze, searching for some reachable answer, some unknown explanation that would make everything clear, would place everything back to what it should be, what it had been.
A horrible, heart wrenching silence followed, those few moments when I stared at the door expectantly, waiting for him to do what I expected, for him to come rushing back in declaring that he had made a big mistake. But he didn’t. The door remained closed, and he did not come.
It was then that I was falling, my legs crumpling beneath me, unable to support my weight any longer. I was left curled up on the ground, slowly rocking my trembling body back and forth. I had nothing now. What was my artistic brilliance worth, if I had no one to help find my muse, no one to make sure I finish the job? What was my life worth, if I didn’t have someone, if I didn’t have him?
I didn’t want just someone, I wanted that someone. That man who had just left, left without giving me a chance, a chance I so desperately wanted, needed.
If I need to change, if that’s what it would take for him to come back, I would do that – probably. Well, for John I could, I would.
If I needed to stop painting on his desk – their desk – I could do that too. I could stop using drugs for inspiration, stop being so immature, I know I could. If only I had said those words, and meant them, maybe he would be here still, and I would be wrapped in the man’s strong arms, instead of falling to pieces on the cluttered floor.
Who was I kidding? I had told him these things countless times before, and he had never believed me then. He had given me thousands of chances, and each and every time, I had let him down, I had failed.
Rarely have I ever admitted something like this to myself, and yet this time it was true. I just haven’t made the effort, I had always thought that he would give in, and he’d be there, always.
That was my fatal mistake. No one ever approached me, and he was the only one who ever stayed with me longer than a day. I can’t really blame my ‘friend’, and so I didn’t. I placed the blame where the blame fell and this time, all of it fell on me.
So I laid there, tears dripping down from my eyes, falling down my skin and pooling on the floor. And still the only noise for what seemed to be miles around, was the noise of my despair echoing throughout the empty room.
This wasn’t like before, he wasn’t coming back.
Not this time.
He was gone, gone for good.
I was alone. Alone once more, just like before, when I had lived paycheck to paycheck, and the time between so distant that I was nearly starved to death countless of times.
Maybe, just maybe, this was how things were supposed to be. Maybe this was justice.
And as I clung to an old photograph, a sob escaped, shattering the deafening silence.
I would hold on to that photo for the rest of my life.
It was proof that he had existed, and when I grow old and grey, and probably, no, still alone, I would have something to prove that once I had loved someone, and once someone had loved me too.
Yet, it was also proof, that sometimes, love was just not enough.
Last edited by Stress; 02-14-2010 at 05:52 PM..
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