Beautifully Broken
"Do you feel like hearing a long story?"
Sometimes I just lay there and if I’m real quiet I can hear her strumming on my bass. If I’m completely still I can feel the curves of her body beneath the gold sheets. Then, out of habit, I reach for her; but she’s gone. Just as quickly as she came.
I haven’t left this bed in weeks. Sure, I’ve gotten up; but mentally I haven’t left this bed. I’ve been waiting for her to come back.
My friends think I’m going to kill myself. The only reason I haven’t yet is because I want to be alive when she returns.
I worry about her all the time. I pray she’s not back on drugs.
There’s a knock on my door but I don’t answer it. There have been lots of knocks lately. People like to check on me. I make them stand there and wait; like she’s done to me.
The knocking gets more violent and turns to banging.
I never meant to hit her. I just felt so angry; so betrayed. I’ll never forget how her eyes looked after I did. Her green orbs widened with shock and she ran. That night I did try to kill myself. I made her run. I had become so dependent on her. I couldn’t imagine a life without her in it.
The banging ceased and keys jingled.
I could feel the palpitations in my heart increase. She was the only other person who had keys to this place. She came back! I knew it! I knew she wouldn’t be gone for long. I just need to be patient. She was here!
I got out the bed and waited. I waited to see her slender frame slide through the door and apologize for running. Without a doubt I would forgive her. Then everything would be normal again.
Instead of her, Patrick walked through the door.
Clearly disappointed I flopped back onto the bed.
“Pete—“
“How’d you get a key?” I cut him off.
“She dropped it off when she left”
I rolled onto my side. What was I to say? It was getting harder to convince myself she was coming back.
“Pete, please talk to me”.
I looked at my friend as he pleaded.
“We’ve been really worried about you. You haven’t been…”
I rolled my eyes. “No, you can check my arms if you want to.”
“Then talk to me”.
I used to beg her to do that. “Just talk to me”, I would say, “I want to understand.” That’s what attracted me to her at first. She was so mysterious. I wanted to know her; not the version put together by her glam team.
“Do you feel like hearing a long story?” I asked Pat.
“Of course” he said falling into on of the few bean bag chairs.
“Alright. I’ll start from the beginning.”
I haven’t left this bed in weeks. Sure, I’ve gotten up; but mentally I haven’t left this bed. I’ve been waiting for her to come back.
My friends think I’m going to kill myself. The only reason I haven’t yet is because I want to be alive when she returns.
I worry about her all the time. I pray she’s not back on drugs.
There’s a knock on my door but I don’t answer it. There have been lots of knocks lately. People like to check on me. I make them stand there and wait; like she’s done to me.
The knocking gets more violent and turns to banging.
I never meant to hit her. I just felt so angry; so betrayed. I’ll never forget how her eyes looked after I did. Her green orbs widened with shock and she ran. That night I did try to kill myself. I made her run. I had become so dependent on her. I couldn’t imagine a life without her in it.
The banging ceased and keys jingled.
I could feel the palpitations in my heart increase. She was the only other person who had keys to this place. She came back! I knew it! I knew she wouldn’t be gone for long. I just need to be patient. She was here!
I got out the bed and waited. I waited to see her slender frame slide through the door and apologize for running. Without a doubt I would forgive her. Then everything would be normal again.
Instead of her, Patrick walked through the door.
Clearly disappointed I flopped back onto the bed.
“Pete—“
“How’d you get a key?” I cut him off.
“She dropped it off when she left”
I rolled onto my side. What was I to say? It was getting harder to convince myself she was coming back.
“Pete, please talk to me”.
I looked at my friend as he pleaded.
“We’ve been really worried about you. You haven’t been…”
I rolled my eyes. “No, you can check my arms if you want to.”
“Then talk to me”.
I used to beg her to do that. “Just talk to me”, I would say, “I want to understand.” That’s what attracted me to her at first. She was so mysterious. I wanted to know her; not the version put together by her glam team.
“Do you feel like hearing a long story?” I asked Pat.
“Of course” he said falling into on of the few bean bag chairs.
“Alright. I’ll start from the beginning.”