Status: contest.
Memories
on my own
I love you so much; I knew you so well. I can feel my eyes start to water and my vision getting blurry. I stand up from the floor and walk over to the sink, gripping it. I look at myself in the mirror and I was a mess. You made a fool out of me, Aaron. I think I now know why you didn’t call me at all on Wednesdays or why you didn’t visit me as much.
I turn around and look at those memories lying in the floor. I pick them up one by one and throw them in the sink, looking at each one intently before doing so. I could feel the expected rage bubbling up inside me and I ran my hands through my hair. I let my right hand swim around all the papers, the photos, until I grasp that same little piece of white paper; sorry. I read that word over and over again and that is when I lose it. I scrunch that little piece of paper and leave the bathroom, cursing you and me over and over again until I reach the kitchen.
I open one of the draws and find what I was looking for; a box of matches. I run up the stairs, not stumbling once, and dance into the bathroom throwing the door with so much force the house shook terrified. With shaking hands I throw the scrunched piece of paper into the sink and open the box of matches, picking one carefully and making it come to life. I inhale loudly and throw the match into the sink, all those memories turning orange, red, black.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I scream and yell and throw myself into the floor crying harder and harder every second. I crawl into the bathtub and remember every second of that fucking moment that changed my life; our life. I ran up the stairs of your house, your mom crying desperately on the hallway floor. I opened the door to your room and your bed was empty. I remember walking up to it and finding a little piece of white paper; sorry. I picked it up and ran out of the room, not looking at your mom for anything in the world.
As I lay here, the bathtub filling with water, I reach out for the little black box. One thing remains inside. A little golden box with a thing I haven’t touched since I met you, waiting for me to take it out and use it. I feel the rage building inside me again and without mercy, I take the shining gray razor and in less than a second, I tear my neck open.
As blood fills the bathtub, I turn my head slowly and look at the burning memories inside the sink. I watch the fire get bigger and bigger, and I wonder; how I couldn’t decode your thoughts. But most importantly, I wonder how could I never decode that you had cancer.
I turn around and look at those memories lying in the floor. I pick them up one by one and throw them in the sink, looking at each one intently before doing so. I could feel the expected rage bubbling up inside me and I ran my hands through my hair. I let my right hand swim around all the papers, the photos, until I grasp that same little piece of white paper; sorry. I read that word over and over again and that is when I lose it. I scrunch that little piece of paper and leave the bathroom, cursing you and me over and over again until I reach the kitchen.
I open one of the draws and find what I was looking for; a box of matches. I run up the stairs, not stumbling once, and dance into the bathroom throwing the door with so much force the house shook terrified. With shaking hands I throw the scrunched piece of paper into the sink and open the box of matches, picking one carefully and making it come to life. I inhale loudly and throw the match into the sink, all those memories turning orange, red, black.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I scream and yell and throw myself into the floor crying harder and harder every second. I crawl into the bathtub and remember every second of that fucking moment that changed my life; our life. I ran up the stairs of your house, your mom crying desperately on the hallway floor. I opened the door to your room and your bed was empty. I remember walking up to it and finding a little piece of white paper; sorry. I picked it up and ran out of the room, not looking at your mom for anything in the world.
As I lay here, the bathtub filling with water, I reach out for the little black box. One thing remains inside. A little golden box with a thing I haven’t touched since I met you, waiting for me to take it out and use it. I feel the rage building inside me again and without mercy, I take the shining gray razor and in less than a second, I tear my neck open.
As blood fills the bathtub, I turn my head slowly and look at the burning memories inside the sink. I watch the fire get bigger and bigger, and I wonder; how I couldn’t decode your thoughts. But most importantly, I wonder how could I never decode that you had cancer.
see you soon, love.