This Empty Love

I didn’t bother to wait for the show to finish before I left. Without Oliver, I got into my car and made a mad dash home and straight into the spare room, which was also Oli’s for the time being. What I was looking for would be difficult to find, if I was any other person. However, I’ve known Oliver for almost seven years, and his hiding places aren’t exactly secret anymore.

Walking straight over to the bed, I lifted up the top part of the mattress and grabbed the small, black notebook that was revealed. After dropping the mattress back into place and leaving the room, I headed down the hall while flipping through the pages.

My goal wasn’t to read Oliver’s lyric journal, well, not completely anyways. More than half way through the book I stopped at the second to last entry and stared at the words written on paper, knowing I had found what I had been looking for.

At the top of this particular page was Oliver’s chicken scratch hand writing telling the date and name of the song: the Sadness Will Never End. My eyes lingered there for a moment before scanning the rest of the page, taking in the lyrics as my hands trembled and shook the notebook.

I reached the part of the song that I hadn’t heard, that I had walked out on. I’m glad I had left when I had, because if I heard these lyrics while standing there, I probably would have collapsed in a disastrous heap on the floor.

Close your eyes
There's nothing we can do
But sleep in this bed that we made for ourselves
You're trapped in your past
Like it's six feet under

I won't give up on you
These scars won't tear us apart
So don't give up on me
It's not too late for us
I'll save you from yourself x4

Try to numb the pain
With alcohol and pills
But it won't repair your trust
You can't stand on two fucking feet
With a substance as a crutch

I won't give up
I won't give up on you
We'll play this symphony

Some of the lyrics had been scratched out and re-written, as if he was debating whether or not to keep the very personal words in a song that would be spread world wide.

How could he write this? How could he reveal so much to the millions of fans his band had acquired over the years? They knew he was married, they knew who I was. Hell, they even had pictures of me, blogged about how much they hate/love me, and ranted on everywhere. There would be no doubt in their minds that this was about me, about us.

I was more of a mess now, after reading the rest of the lyrics, than I had been in a very long time. Tears lightly fell down my eyes as I changed into a set of pajamas and tried to ignore everything.

Two hours later, after replacing the notebook and cleaning myself up, Oliver finally arrived home. Lee had been his ride, and after he drove away, Oliver let himself into the house and walked in cautiously. There was no denying that he knew I was hurt, and there was definitely no denying that he did it intentionally.

“Taylor, yeh awake?” Oliver called quietly, rapping his tattooed knuckles against my half open bedroom door. I wasn’t going to reply to him at first, but then again I was fuming and he was a, figuratively, punching bag.

“Yes.” Was my simple reply. Who knew that one word could hold so much emotion?

I could hear Oliver’s feet shuffle against the carpet outside. “Can I come in?” He asked finally.

“I guess.” I replied. Sitting up in bed, I adjusted my shirt and my hair as I watched the door open and his slim figure walk into the room.

Oliver’s face was tired and worn out from the show, and it became apparent when he talk that his voice was sore too. “Yeh left the show.”

“Yeah?” I asked, failing to hold back my bitchiness.

“Just say whatever is on your mind,” Oliver instructed me, folding his arms over his chest, “We both know yeh get like this when you’re pissed and wanting to rant.”

One bad thing about fighting with someone that knew you so well, was the fact they could read you like a book. They knew all your defenses and hidden emotions. There was no way to defeat the other person.

Scoffing, I got out of bed and stood up, feeling stronger on two feet. “Don’t act like you don’t know. The song Oliver, the lyrics. Why?” I asked. My voice was shaking.

“Yeh know,” Oliver started to reply, his voice filling with a grim and disturbing amusement, “It’s just a song, Taylor. Yeh shouldn’t get so worked up over some lyrics.”

“Gah, you are just such an asshole. Playing like it’s nothing. Last time I check, ‘just lyrics’ doesn’t involve the personal fact that I had an addiction or the lies that you still want to help us.” I rant, stepping closer to him and poking him in the chest, thinking that would get my point across. “You are just making everything worse!”

I was one of those girls who got overly mad in situations. I went from talking to yelling within a matter of seconds and from then on I just got louder, thinking yelling was the only way for them to hear me. What was worse, was the fact that Oliver usually just stood there with his arms crossed until I was finished.

“Yeh done yet? ‘Cause lyrics can be lies, Taylor.” Oliver said, his face blank. This part about him pissed me off the most, sending me over the edge.

“I just- I can’t even believe you.” I yelled, my voice cracking with tears as they streamed down my face. Oliver’s emotions were still well hidden as I broke down in front of him.

Stepping forward again, I placed my hands on his chest and lightly pressed him backwards. “Get out, just get out.” My voice was low now, completely defeated.

Oliver put no fight into me pushing him out of the room. He showed no concern for my weakening state of mind or the fact I was shattering in front of him. Maybe there really is no hope for us, and at the moment, I was fine with concluding to that.