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Why Valentine's Day Sucks
I Wanna Hate Every Part of You In Me
Through the eyes of Andy:
With a trembling hand, I glided the razor blade against my pale skin slicing it open once more, crimson droplets falling onto the wooden floor boards. No matter how many times I repeated this action the pain in my heart refused to disappear. Three hundred and sixty five days simply wasn't enough time to remove her from my mind, my memories, nor my heart… I tossed the blade across the room angrily, listening to it slam against the wall opposite of me with a ‘clink’ then drop onto the ground, a streak of red left behind on the ivory paint. I rested my head against the wall behind me, closing my eyelids slowly, feeling the blood flow freely from the incisions scattered across my arms that lied limply beside me. Why did I insist on torturing myself in this horrible fashion? She’s already extracted me from her thoughts long ago, why couldn't I do the same for myself?! She's holding hands with another guy while I'm here sulking over her when she doesn't even recall my name. I don't know which is more wretched; Valentine's Day itself or the lingering memory that simply wouldn't leave me in peace.
"I hate you so damn much, but I love you…" I snatched the miniature orange bottle sitting beside my leg and looked through the transparent plastic, observing the little round, white pills that sat inside. I popped the white cap off with my thumb and poured some of the contents onto the palm of my hand, not even bothering to count how many I was about to consume. I titled my head back, opened my mouth and dropped the drugs inside, swallowing them rapidly to prevent myself from changing my mind. The sound of sniffling filled my ears as my cheeks were moistened by my pathetic tears.
"Why won't you just leave the hell alone!?" I yelled with as much volume as my voice could pitch. My fists crashed against the wooden floor beneath me repeatedly as I ignored the pain surging through my hands, until a knocking at my bedroom door startled me out of my rage.
"Andy, are you alright?" A voice I recognized to be Ashley's inquired, his words muffled by the door. The only response I could give him were sobs that escaped my lips. My strength was running thin and in a matter of time, there would be nothing left of me. The door squeaked loudly as Ashley entered at the sound of my misery. Quickly, he rushed over to my side kneeling in front of me, grabbing a hold of my arms with his gentle hands.
"Andy, why are you doing this to yourself?" My head hung in shame; I didn’t have the courage to respond to him, much less look him in the eye. His hand drifted up to my chin lifting my head upward, forcing my eyes to come in contact with his auburn ones that held sorrow behind them at the witnessing of my downfall. I… felt like a disgrace, I felt guilty; I felt like I had let him and everyone who cared for me down. The tips of his thumbs rubbed against my cheeks removing the fallen tears. Our lips were mere inches apart from each other and all of a sudden an irresistible urge to press mine against his came over me, but I controlled myself. What was wrong with me? Ashley was my best friend not my rebound to use whenever I couldn't take the loneliness anymore. Immediately, I stood up off the floor needing to remove myself from his presence, disgusted with myself.
"What's wrong?" Ashley asked, hurt hidden behind his words. I hugged myself with trembling arms gazing out of the opened window.
"Nothing, I just… needed some fresh air." My vision was beginning to fail me, fading for brief moments then returning unexpectedly. My legs were starting to go numb; what was happening to me? I was deteriorating slowly and there was nothing I could do or say as my ability to speak was next to be gone. My body collapsed as my legs gave way under my weight, my eyelids growing extremely heavy forcing me to close them.
Through the eyes of Ashley:
"Andy!" I shouted in worry dashing over to where Andy lay, instantly dropping onto my knees and cradling him in my arms. His body seemed so fragile, his limbs so thin as well as his abdomen. I carried his limp form over to where his bed stood, lying him carefully onto the surface of the mattress, brushing the black strands of hair out of his face with my fingers. My boot bumped against something and I glanced down to find an orange bottle with tablets spilling out of it. I bent over and picked up the plastic bottle, looking over at Andy in disappointment and sympathy. I, better than anyone, understand the suffering that he’s undergoing, but he doesn’t deserve all of this torturing that he’s doing to himself. I closed my fist around the bottle tightly and walked over to the small garbage bin in the corner of Andy’s room, but before tossing away the bottle, I remembered that Andy would most likely go searching for it later and surely locate them here, so instead I stuffed the bottle in the pocket of my leather jacket where he would have no access to them.
I went into the bathroom searching for whatever I could find to mend the wounds scattered across his arms. I returned with the items in between my arms dropping them all onto the floor. I unfastened the bottle of alcohol spreading some of the foul smelling liquid onto a small piece of cloth, dabbing softly and carefully at the incisions until I was sure they were free of blood for the most part. I then grabbed the roll of bandages, wrapping them around both of his arms taking quick glances over at his eyes hoping he would emerge from his sleep, but his eyes remained the way they were; closed.
I fixed what I could of his visible injuries, but what I yearned to fix were the wounds in his heart. I wanted to give him the love that he needed, the love that he deserved, but would he accept it? Without thinking twice, I placed my lips against his soft, tender ones, watching as he awoke with an expression of bedazzlement.
With a trembling hand, I glided the razor blade against my pale skin slicing it open once more, crimson droplets falling onto the wooden floor boards. No matter how many times I repeated this action the pain in my heart refused to disappear. Three hundred and sixty five days simply wasn't enough time to remove her from my mind, my memories, nor my heart… I tossed the blade across the room angrily, listening to it slam against the wall opposite of me with a ‘clink’ then drop onto the ground, a streak of red left behind on the ivory paint. I rested my head against the wall behind me, closing my eyelids slowly, feeling the blood flow freely from the incisions scattered across my arms that lied limply beside me. Why did I insist on torturing myself in this horrible fashion? She’s already extracted me from her thoughts long ago, why couldn't I do the same for myself?! She's holding hands with another guy while I'm here sulking over her when she doesn't even recall my name. I don't know which is more wretched; Valentine's Day itself or the lingering memory that simply wouldn't leave me in peace.
"I hate you so damn much, but I love you…" I snatched the miniature orange bottle sitting beside my leg and looked through the transparent plastic, observing the little round, white pills that sat inside. I popped the white cap off with my thumb and poured some of the contents onto the palm of my hand, not even bothering to count how many I was about to consume. I titled my head back, opened my mouth and dropped the drugs inside, swallowing them rapidly to prevent myself from changing my mind. The sound of sniffling filled my ears as my cheeks were moistened by my pathetic tears.
"Why won't you just leave the hell alone!?" I yelled with as much volume as my voice could pitch. My fists crashed against the wooden floor beneath me repeatedly as I ignored the pain surging through my hands, until a knocking at my bedroom door startled me out of my rage.
"Andy, are you alright?" A voice I recognized to be Ashley's inquired, his words muffled by the door. The only response I could give him were sobs that escaped my lips. My strength was running thin and in a matter of time, there would be nothing left of me. The door squeaked loudly as Ashley entered at the sound of my misery. Quickly, he rushed over to my side kneeling in front of me, grabbing a hold of my arms with his gentle hands.
"Andy, why are you doing this to yourself?" My head hung in shame; I didn’t have the courage to respond to him, much less look him in the eye. His hand drifted up to my chin lifting my head upward, forcing my eyes to come in contact with his auburn ones that held sorrow behind them at the witnessing of my downfall. I… felt like a disgrace, I felt guilty; I felt like I had let him and everyone who cared for me down. The tips of his thumbs rubbed against my cheeks removing the fallen tears. Our lips were mere inches apart from each other and all of a sudden an irresistible urge to press mine against his came over me, but I controlled myself. What was wrong with me? Ashley was my best friend not my rebound to use whenever I couldn't take the loneliness anymore. Immediately, I stood up off the floor needing to remove myself from his presence, disgusted with myself.
"What's wrong?" Ashley asked, hurt hidden behind his words. I hugged myself with trembling arms gazing out of the opened window.
"Nothing, I just… needed some fresh air." My vision was beginning to fail me, fading for brief moments then returning unexpectedly. My legs were starting to go numb; what was happening to me? I was deteriorating slowly and there was nothing I could do or say as my ability to speak was next to be gone. My body collapsed as my legs gave way under my weight, my eyelids growing extremely heavy forcing me to close them.
Through the eyes of Ashley:
"Andy!" I shouted in worry dashing over to where Andy lay, instantly dropping onto my knees and cradling him in my arms. His body seemed so fragile, his limbs so thin as well as his abdomen. I carried his limp form over to where his bed stood, lying him carefully onto the surface of the mattress, brushing the black strands of hair out of his face with my fingers. My boot bumped against something and I glanced down to find an orange bottle with tablets spilling out of it. I bent over and picked up the plastic bottle, looking over at Andy in disappointment and sympathy. I, better than anyone, understand the suffering that he’s undergoing, but he doesn’t deserve all of this torturing that he’s doing to himself. I closed my fist around the bottle tightly and walked over to the small garbage bin in the corner of Andy’s room, but before tossing away the bottle, I remembered that Andy would most likely go searching for it later and surely locate them here, so instead I stuffed the bottle in the pocket of my leather jacket where he would have no access to them.
I went into the bathroom searching for whatever I could find to mend the wounds scattered across his arms. I returned with the items in between my arms dropping them all onto the floor. I unfastened the bottle of alcohol spreading some of the foul smelling liquid onto a small piece of cloth, dabbing softly and carefully at the incisions until I was sure they were free of blood for the most part. I then grabbed the roll of bandages, wrapping them around both of his arms taking quick glances over at his eyes hoping he would emerge from his sleep, but his eyes remained the way they were; closed.
I fixed what I could of his visible injuries, but what I yearned to fix were the wounds in his heart. I wanted to give him the love that he needed, the love that he deserved, but would he accept it? Without thinking twice, I placed my lips against his soft, tender ones, watching as he awoke with an expression of bedazzlement.
♠ ♠ ♠
Through the eyes of... (insert name) just means point of view. I thought it would be more original to come up with something other than 'Andy's P.O.V' or 'Ashley's P.O.V' so in case that causes any confusion to you that's all that it is. Hoped you liked it!