He always smiled sweetly when he saw me approaching. The sway in his walk and the way he moved was enough to make me nervous to a point where I was scared of not knowing what to say him. When I would finally reach him, he would give me that cute, awkward look. It made me feel as though, perhaps, he was just as scared as I was.
We sat side by side both knowing, somewhat, of what would eventually have to happen. We talked for a while, silence lingering heavily we searched our minds for something to fill in the gaps that were starved of conversation.
When I kissed him on the cheek, I didn't expect him to pull me back once I had pulled away. I didn't know what I was doing. All I knew was that it felt right. In that moment where I forced my lips away from his and rested my head in the curve of his neck, I felt myself slip beyond all hope of ever feeling nothing.
As if a force of cruelty sensed my momentary happiness, life became our greatest obstacle. Time did not favour or humour our, or perhaps solely my, desires. However, no amount of time would ever have truly been sufficient. As my opportunity slowly ceased and enthusiasm became dismal, I felt my heart leave my body as I lost him... All too quickly.
I continued to wait, as though I expected his return to be near to immediate. Fear consumed me once I realised that my expectations were not aligned with his. I suddenly lost all confidence in him having any feelings for me any longer. Doubt, fear and discouragement ruled me. I lost the hope that I could ever be truly loved.
I lie here now, contemplating my varying degrees of emotion, depression and self-scorn. The thin white scars, still lightly etched on my wrist, seem lonely and the smooth fragile skin of my forearm subtly screams to be severed and to be left to bleed out.
I knew from the very beginnings of my joy, to that of my current depression that he; ultimately, eventually and regardless of his intentions, would make me feel That Way.
--J.
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