Paint My Portrait
The untold stories are painted in black and white
“Max, I’m cold…” I could hear him say. I kept my eyes closed and pulled him into my arms. It went like this every night, even in the summer. He could not keep his tiny body warm himself, so I had to do it. I closed my eyes again as I smelled him. This was home, this scent. The scent of coffee on his clothes, the cigarette smoke in his hair. He was a dirty mess, and I loved all of it.
The next morning I caught him again. Standing in front of the mirror in his boxers. Checking if he gained some weight, if he lost the amount he wanted. I walked over to him, wrapped my arms around him from behind and kissed his collarbone.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered against his skin. He turned around and faced me, his lip bruised from the biting. I stroke over his lower lip with my thumb. It almost made me cry, to see him this hurt. Every time I complimented him, he took it negative. His whole world was negative. That was just the way he wanted to live. He knew how much he hurt me with it, but most of all, himself. I couldn’t care less about myself, actually. As long as he was happy, I was too.
But it’s all too late now. It’s over. All said and done. I can’t do anything about it anymore. I can’t help him get over it. I can’t. I failed.
I walk over towards his grave, kneel down and refresh the flowers from two days ago.
“Don’t forget me,” he gasped as he coughed some blood up. I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. He can’t leave me. He can’t do this. To me, to himself. I can’t forget him. I won’t now, I never will. He’s the love of my life. How the fuck am I supposed to forget him?
“Don’t… Don’t leave me,” I sobbed. He forced himself to lift his hand up, to place it on my cheek. I loosened my grip on his other hand. And took the one on my cheek with both of mine. I closed my mouth, to not let more tears come in. It fell open again when his eyes slowly closed.
“Sam, stay… Don’t leave… Please…” I leaned in, kissed his lips one last time. He softly kissed me back, before his hand slit out of mine. I cried. Rested my head on his chest and cried. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be true. This must be a nightmare. This isn’t reality.
But it was. I lost him. I lost my Sam. It was all my fault. I couldn’t rescue him on time. I failed.
A year later, I’m still here. Caught up in my thoughts. Every time I look in the mirror, I can see Sam next to me. He’s still here. Ronnie says I have to leave. Leave this shitty apartment and all the fucked up memories. He wants me to move on. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I have to accept the fact that Sam is never coming back.
I look around, finding myself in the kitchen. Ronnie is standing across me, sipping from his coffee. Robert is in the living room, playing a video game with Monte, while Omar is watching. They all moved on, even though Sam was a close friend of theirs. They miss him, but not as much as I do.
“Max? Max?!” Ronnie interrupts my thoughts. I look up at him, my eyes with a blank stare. They say nothing, just like I feel nothing. I feel numb, not alive. Sam took it from me.
“You know he did drugs, right?” he says. I respond with a nod. I know he did them, even though I don’t want to believe that that’s what killed him. Sam was complicated. It couldn’t be that easy.
“Maybe that’s what…” I look up at him with huge eyes. He can’t say it, he just can’t.
But he does.
I drop my coffee mug and push him to the side, so I can run. Out of the apartment, out of the street. I run. I always do. I run for everything that scares me.
I never did that, not until Sam left. He left me here, all alone. When I was with him, I was never scared. The only way that I’ll stop running, is if I’m with him again. I need to be with him again. There’s not much left for me here.
Without noticing, I’m running to his grave. I kneel down on top of it, crying my eyes out.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.’ I write down in the mud, before grabbing a knife from my pocket. Sam gave it to me, a few months before he died.
“In case you get stuck somewhere,” he said with a soft smile. And now I’m stuck. I’m stuck in a world that I don’t want to live in. A world that’s worthless without you here, Sam. But I’ll see you soon, I will. I love you.
The next morning I caught him again. Standing in front of the mirror in his boxers. Checking if he gained some weight, if he lost the amount he wanted. I walked over to him, wrapped my arms around him from behind and kissed his collarbone.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered against his skin. He turned around and faced me, his lip bruised from the biting. I stroke over his lower lip with my thumb. It almost made me cry, to see him this hurt. Every time I complimented him, he took it negative. His whole world was negative. That was just the way he wanted to live. He knew how much he hurt me with it, but most of all, himself. I couldn’t care less about myself, actually. As long as he was happy, I was too.
But it’s all too late now. It’s over. All said and done. I can’t do anything about it anymore. I can’t help him get over it. I can’t. I failed.
I walk over towards his grave, kneel down and refresh the flowers from two days ago.
“Don’t forget me,” he gasped as he coughed some blood up. I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. He can’t leave me. He can’t do this. To me, to himself. I can’t forget him. I won’t now, I never will. He’s the love of my life. How the fuck am I supposed to forget him?
“Don’t… Don’t leave me,” I sobbed. He forced himself to lift his hand up, to place it on my cheek. I loosened my grip on his other hand. And took the one on my cheek with both of mine. I closed my mouth, to not let more tears come in. It fell open again when his eyes slowly closed.
“Sam, stay… Don’t leave… Please…” I leaned in, kissed his lips one last time. He softly kissed me back, before his hand slit out of mine. I cried. Rested my head on his chest and cried. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be true. This must be a nightmare. This isn’t reality.
But it was. I lost him. I lost my Sam. It was all my fault. I couldn’t rescue him on time. I failed.
A year later, I’m still here. Caught up in my thoughts. Every time I look in the mirror, I can see Sam next to me. He’s still here. Ronnie says I have to leave. Leave this shitty apartment and all the fucked up memories. He wants me to move on. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I have to accept the fact that Sam is never coming back.
I look around, finding myself in the kitchen. Ronnie is standing across me, sipping from his coffee. Robert is in the living room, playing a video game with Monte, while Omar is watching. They all moved on, even though Sam was a close friend of theirs. They miss him, but not as much as I do.
“Max? Max?!” Ronnie interrupts my thoughts. I look up at him, my eyes with a blank stare. They say nothing, just like I feel nothing. I feel numb, not alive. Sam took it from me.
“You know he did drugs, right?” he says. I respond with a nod. I know he did them, even though I don’t want to believe that that’s what killed him. Sam was complicated. It couldn’t be that easy.
“Maybe that’s what…” I look up at him with huge eyes. He can’t say it, he just can’t.
But he does.
I drop my coffee mug and push him to the side, so I can run. Out of the apartment, out of the street. I run. I always do. I run for everything that scares me.
I never did that, not until Sam left. He left me here, all alone. When I was with him, I was never scared. The only way that I’ll stop running, is if I’m with him again. I need to be with him again. There’s not much left for me here.
Without noticing, I’m running to his grave. I kneel down on top of it, crying my eyes out.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.’ I write down in the mud, before grabbing a knife from my pocket. Sam gave it to me, a few months before he died.
“In case you get stuck somewhere,” he said with a soft smile. And now I’m stuck. I’m stuck in a world that I don’t want to live in. A world that’s worthless without you here, Sam. But I’ll see you soon, I will. I love you.