Disenchanted

I was very bitter for the rest of the day. Though I was all by myself, I'd drawn the blinds, turned off all the lights and locked the doors. Curled up pathetically on the couch watching one of the old chick-flicks I'd watched twenty plus times when He left. It wasn't any good, in fact I hardly paid attention to any of what was happening on the screen. I knew all too well how the movie ends, and I hate the ending myself. But it started with a alright scene...

The small town girl who attends a concert of her favorite band. The singer of the band notices her and pulls her on stage to sing her favorite songs, all the while he's thinking she is the most beautiful girl ever, tragedy strikes and he cheats on her, yadda yadda yadda, then the ending is all gushy with them running towards each other on a glistening beach yelling “I love you!” or “Baby never leave me again!”

I watched the ending, their gushy, lovey dicey hug. The kiss. I thought hatefully while glaring at the screen that the ending would be a hundred times better if she stepped on a broken bottle in the sand and gashes up her leg, spending their reunion in the hospital while she's on pain killers and numbing medicines, nurses picking glass out of the cuts. I smiled ruefully. But that would be something I'd never see in a chick flick, because it's not predictable enough. You need gushy lovey dovey words and light pecks to make a good movie, apparently.

I turned my head slightly, almost wincing away from the screen when they kissed passionately. That was more than my mind could handle tonight. I flipped off the tv and grabbed my blanket, dragging it along behind me like a oversized baby, getting a Coke from the kitchen and going to my room to drink in peace. 

I was too lazy to choose some different music, so I pushed play and the first track of the CD I'd left in there started.

The End. 

The first track on the Black Parade. 

Followed by Dead!, so on and so fourth. I grumbled something incoherent and Squirmed into bed, popped the top on my pop can and flopping lazily out across the messy bed. Looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling fan, spinning around and around again. And again and again.

It was late. Half past twelve, but I knew a place. A place you could come and be yourself and bring all your emotional baggage along and ditch it in the crowds. The cloudy stink if adrenaline, sweat and spit. The loud rants and demands that the crowds mosh to every song the band on the bill of the night play. It was a place I went often with Him. Hell it was out first date.

But I wasn't sure if I could even get up and move from my groggy slump. I rubbed at my eyes tiredly, gazing around my room and realizing I'd drifted off a bit. maybe tomorrow night, I could go. I could let go of everything for a few hours. Maybe even come up with a plan for my life instead of wallowing in self-pity.

I nodded off and slept the whole night without incident.