Dying for life

by | May 6, 2009 | Stories | 0 comments

As I walked down the same road as always, a thought entered my mind with such impulse that my legs turned into a state of stagnancy. For many years now it has been hard to actively involve myself in the world of other people, I can’t be trusted and I can’t function. This was because of her, the woman who I f***** everything up with. Her dark hair with highlights that usually seemed like they needed to be touched up at the roots, lips that shone because of the constant appliance of lip balm, well that’s the fancy name for Vaseline, petroleum jelly, weird. I thought that the existence of her in my life had completely faded; on this particular day in my life an encounter with the woman I loved with a passion un-measurable was a certainty.
Her hair though dark was radiant in the mobbed street, it seems that she has ditched the highlights, why? Maybe she has a new guy in her life that didn’t like them, what a b******, although she does look amazing. I was frozen halfway through my step, but managed to get to a point of stature that my body agreed with. Everything around me was moving in slow motion as if all time had stopped for this particular moment to really f*** with me, to make me realize that I had really been a p****. There was no way that this was going to pluck the strings of normality, even if there was no acknowledgement from either of us I knew it would be really weird. As she made her way through the unsettling crowd I panicked. I had just realized, for the second time that this awkward scenario was happening. The past was played out in my head like a scene from a crap sit-com, the kind that at the time seemed ok, but a few years on everyone has decided was crap. The nervous first kiss, what a catastrophe. I mauled her mouth with my tongue, and then the next day made a mental note to not drink with friends before a first date. The sentimental warmth of lying on a couch sharing a blanket watching old films, which is only comfortable for five minutes if you are truthful and fifteen if you are lying to yourself. Rubbing the tops of her hands with my thumbs, it wasn’t that exciting, but I did it all the time. Holding her hand as we walked unaware of how much sweat would accumulate in my palms and spoon feeding her the meal he had spent all day preparing and cooking and f****** up in the kitchen. I realized then how beautiful life was, because it was with her and I enjoyed all the imperfections of the things we did.
As she came closer through the crowd my heart began to thud sending uncomfortable vibrations down my sternum. It was a cool day but I began to sweat and feel nervous. Just seven more steps and I would once again be face to face with the woman I loved. Six more steps and I still don’t know what to say. Five more steps with nowhere to run or hide. Four more steps and she has caught sight of me. Three more steps and she wears a nervous smile, f*** she is a better person than me, she knows I’m here and is going to do the mature and confident thing. Two more steps to take a final deep breath of false encouragement. “Tony! How are you?” Such a simple question, however I am to shell shocked and afraid to respond, “Is everything ok with you?”
I felt myself being whipped backwards into the depth of his own mind, my secret library of emotion, and I remember what went wrong. I remember the music. It was all kinds of chart topping bullshit. The lighting was dim and the bar was the standard moist glorified port, which had the stench of stale beer. It was probably designed for men to sit on adult sized high chairs, whilst gawking at girls young enough to be their daughters. The face of temptation was vivid, the sharp eyes, pointy nose the greasy mousy brown hair. My weakness was held within this goblin like b****** of a character; my poisons were his specialty. The feeling of pure pleasure was oozing through my veins in so many ways, dark was light and light was dark. The feeling of being on a steady yet hectic stream was euphoric. The essential pleasures through life were no match. Sex, fine wines and gourmet food had turned to dust, and like dust all they could do was cause choke me. Nothing could compare to the poisons.
The vision of the life that led to destruction and disgust still felt like needles in my shoulders. My weakness cost me the dream. I know for certain that I will never have her back in my life again, things would never be the same and I would never fully recover. My mind played the dramatic end of this life with her, always searching for an answer. An answer to why I had let this happen. I was stranded within myself; full of hate, pain and guilt, like a spoiled child not getting their way, but with the embarrassment of an adult after realizing what you just looked like. Nothing seemed right anymore. All things beautiful were now misshapen and hideous. All things pleasurable were now dull pain. In record time I was thrown back onto the mobbed street, face-to-face yet again with her.
“Tony, are you ok? Tony!”
She reached out and placed her gentle hand on my shoulder, such beauty and purity jolted through her hand, her fingernails that used to be French manicured are now red. Under her sleeve I can see the bracelet that I bought her, wow she still wears it. Suddenly I assessed the situation.
“I’m, I’m fine, yes fine, and you, are you, good?”
A look of pure sorrow was taking form on her flawless face, the mole above her right eyebrow was raised, they way it always did just before she let the laughter she couldn’t contain. This time however it was raised as she was trying to keep her pity contained. Realizing how pathetic I had become in the years after her was most prominent in that precise moment. The years of self torture and heart ripping loneliness were nothing to be afraid of, feeling s*** is as the phrase suggests, ‘s***’, but its nothing compared to the feeling of allowing yourself to be so self indulgent and self centered that it ruins another person.
I realized suddenly that I was not actually in the street. I wasn’t even standing up. Sitting up in a dark room, again, with little furniture or light as always. Licking my dry lips I sat up to give the room a proper look. With a quick glance I knew where I was, I could see where things used to be, pictures of the good times with her, sofas we supposedly chose together although personally I thought that the plain leather ones would have been better. Designer drink coasters, which I knew when she spotted them, were a stupid idea. The coffee table that took center stage of the living room, that was mine before we met, but it had to go. I knew this place all too well. Standing up and walking to the bathroom that was once filled with her cosmetics was a huge effort for my painful kneecaps. Now there was nothing in the grubby bathroom but a toothbrush with split bristles, which used to be white, but now was stained with rust, that is f****** gross. The toilet has stains from neglect and the mirror that is cracked, I’m not even sure how or when that happened, and I suppose it has never been questioned in my mind, why am I questioning it now? Am I talking to myself in my head? Pale un-healthy skin, unwashed teeth, and a skinny torso. S*** is that me? Glancing back into the room I could see a needle, spoon, brown poison, a hollowed light bulb, sheets of tin foil, lighters, crystals, white powders, broken pens, s*** what a mess.
Before wasting any time I heated up the lighter with a small flame to create the perfect fluid stream around its bowl like interior and breathed in hard, then filled the good old veins once again to drift off to a world where she was. This time I might die, but I doubt it, maybe next time, but then I can stop, but I don’t want to, I’ll heat the bulb again to get straightened out a bit so I can decide. No, that’s too much, s*** I need to chill out more. Ok, I have some good veins on this side. Perfect.


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