These days I forget to breathe. Forget to take one step at a time. Forget to stop and say, “I love you”. Forget to mean the words. I forget a lot of things, in the fog that’s taken over. The haze of pain is like a drug, soothing everything and making it sharper in one area, foggier in another. I feel like a prophet of doom; I can feel the destruction creeping up behind me, but I can’t foresee when. “Let’s go out.” I can’t stand to be here a second longer. I’m itching to be on the move, to feel something in the unknown outside. 1
He casts me a sideways look. I know what’s coming. “Where?”2
“Anywhere. Nowhere. Someplace other than here.” I know the answer will intrigue him. He’ll at least pretend to consider it, placate me, before he dismisses me. 3
He surprises me, though. “We ARE nowhere. Anywhere. That’s not good enough. Where are we going and what do you need there?”4
He reduces all my feelings to philosophical generalities. He’s like a poem about the fatalistic preachings of mankind. He’s like Freud and Jung and Aristotle, and he’s going to be the death of me. He’s going to be my salvation. Or maybe, just maybe, I’m crazy. “We’re going to the mall for me to buy a new dress.” I disappoint him on purpose because I’m afraid not to. 5
But he knows that’s what I’m doing. “Why?” And I know he’s not asking why I need a new dress. 6
“Because you’re killing me.”7
He likes this answer; it makes him smile. “Am I? Or you’d LIKE me to, so that you could stop your own self-destruction and die the martyr?”8
Now there’s a thought. I lift my chin and look him dead in the eye. “I’m not destroying myself.” Pause for a minute; let him think that this is all I have to say. “I’m setting myself up to be destroyed by everyone else.”9
“Isn’t it the same thing?”10
“Same end, yes. But the means to reach that end…”11
“Only subtly different and you know it. You keep manipulating your life so that you can bitch and gripe about the pain rattling around inside your bones; you’re playing God with your own demise.”12
I like this idea. It gives me control. “ Maybe…”13
He sees how this realization affects me and smiles. “Poor girl. Control is what you’re dying FOR, isn’t it?”14
He’s hit the nail on the head and he knows it. If I can’t be in control of my life, I may as well take charge when it comes to my death. Besides, life isn’t the important part. Going out with a bang, however, is. “Control is what daddy took from me. Control is what HE has when he smacks me around for every sideways look I give him. Control is the chains I’m still not free of.”15
“That’s in life. But in death… in YOUR death…” He smiles. He likes this about me; likes the fire in my eyes. Hopes to be caught in the spark so that we can both catch fire and burn for eternity. “You have control. It isn’t about how he affects your life anymore, is it? It isn’t about justification and understanding anymore. It’s just about dying.”16
“Don’t…” I trail off, then start up again, because this is what I’ve been itching for. Been hungry for. His comprehension. “Don’t reduce this to the lowest common denominator. I’m not a sum total or division of experience over a lifetime.”17
He looks surprised, as if he can’t see why this drastic reduction of my entire life would hurt me. “I didn’t –” 18
“You want to know what this is about? Ask me. But ask the RIGHT questions this time.”19
The idea seems to astound him. He had been asking the questions for a long time, had been begging for answers to questions just beyond his reach. Because sometimes I just didn’t have the words he seemed to need. “The ‘right’ questions?”20
“Did it ever occur to you to ask anything behind the surface? You can see all the things you ask me, if you look hard enough. What about what’s going on in my head? Or HIS?”21
“So what IS going on in your head?”22
I shake my head. “It isn’t that easy.”23
“ Why not?”24
“Because it isn’t.”25
The answer doesn’t satisfy him. I knew it wouldn’t. “It can be, if you let it.” I refuse to answer and in the silence I can tell his brain is working, trying to figure out the riddle I’ve placed in his hands.26
I think about leaving him to ponder the question, but I need the last word. “No. It can’t be.” Or I don’t want it to be. It’s all the same to me. I don’t know what the question I’m waiting for him to ask is; I’ll know once he’s asked it. Once I finally find the words to tell him. Until then, I don’t know what to say. 27
“You’re just being childish and petty. Just starving for attention. Because it isn’t worth it unless someone notices, now is it? It needs to be a big production. A statement. A spectacle out of your self-induced downward spiral. You need someone to blame, so you can scream the name through the darkness and hope someone comes along to save you. Because you refuse to do it for yourself.”28
That one hit like a shot to the heart. A shot of morphine or some other numbing drug. Spreading through every inch of my cold heart. “The questions, remember? You wanted answers. No one asked for your psychoanalysis.” 29
“So how’s this for a question: is all this worth dying over?”30
I know what he’s asking. He’s not talking about the slow, sickening process of suicide. He’s asking about something less obvious. He’s asking about the mind-numbing, soul-breaking emotions I let myself feel. He’s asking about the death of everything I am and everything I stand for. He’s asking about dying in a way that can never be reversed.31
“Yes.” One word, a breath. But an answer. The answer he’s been starving for. “If feeling every hit and insult makes me feel SOMETHING, then it’s worth it. Life isn’t anything to me. It’s out of my hands. Death is sickening. It’s wrong. It’s a slow and painful process that’s choking me with every breath I take. But it’s something I can touch. Can feel. It cuts and hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt but it that’s only because it breaks through the numbness.” I wish he could realize that I wouldn’t be able to love him as much as I do if I didn’t let these little things kill me. If I could move past them, I’d move past him too, because my emotions are so tangled that they’re nearly inseparable. I can’t have him without the pain, or the pain without him. Like life and death, the emotions are nothing without the other. You can’t know love until you’ve experienced hatred so vile and harsh that it kills you. 32
There’s a moment of silence and I feel like he’s begging some higher being to open up the ground and swallow us both. Hold us both cocooned in the center of the earth where we can’t be touched by anything but each other. I have the feeling he wants to be the rescuer he thinks I’ve been screaming so desperately for. “Every step I take is to spite him. And by extension, to destroy myself. I can’t have one without the other. I’m not you.”33
“I’m not asking you to be. I know who you are better than you even do.” He knows he’s right about this, but at the same time, he’s missing so many critical pieces. He knows me as a page in a textbook. New world philosophies, and proverbs. I’m numbers and letters multiplied and divided in front of his eyes. 34
“Maybe.” I give him a look and it silences the thoughts in his head. I can see it. He’s waiting. Because he knows I finally have one answer for him. One thing that may make him see through this foggy glass case I’ve built around myself. What he doesnt realize is that it's a question of my own. "Would you still love me if I didnt need your love so desperately? Would you love me if I knew the answer to every question?"35
Silence.36
It was a question he didnt know the answer to, I knew before I even asked. But I had to put it out there. He needed to think about it, more than I needed an answer.37
After a few moments, he changes back to the subject at hand. He needs the security of analysis, he needs to revert to his calm, poetic indifference. But beneath the fancy words, I know he is aching. "So what? I have to sit back and watch you crash and burn?" He seems hurt by this, as if the idea of not being able to do anything is incomprehensible to him.38
"You crash and burn with me, baby. Bail at the last minute if you have to, but I cant get to the end of the tunnel unless you're there to hold my hand...”39
Silence again. There are questions in his head, answers in mine. Something he wants desperately from me, but doesnt have the words to ask for. I need to give it to him, if only for the selfish means of self-healing, but I can't. Not now. Maybe not ever. Maybe I need to die before all this tangled nonsense sorts itself out. I don't know.40
"You cant have healing without sacrifice." As if this idea is new to me. As if this self-loathing and hatred for anything pure and good isnt about sacrifice. But then he realizes he's not telling me anything new and changes course. "So we're going to hit bottom then?"41
I want to protest, tell him that I'd never let him fall from grace as far as I plan to. But I know it's a lie. I dont have the strength to turn him away. He'll be with me forever and a day, if that's what it takes for someone to hear my screams. Maybe I'M the question. And maybe... just maybe... he's the answer.42
43
Author notes
For the contest: "Pieces of Me"
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 17 of 17
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very sad, i was already about to cry before i read this, and this just helped, i guess thats a good thing if it can bring forth so much emotion, fantastic write.
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That was really good. Thankyou so much for entering my contest. God bless Kristin
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So amazing! You are truly a poet at heart, your words melt like butter, flowing off the tongue....! I have been reading stories all day, and this one just stands out, completely. It is so different yet inexplainably the same, just deeper, more intense.. I loved it! Great work, and thank you so much for entering!
Love,
Katy
~*LiquidLullaby*~ -
Beautiful
This is amazing, it's almost funny how you've summed up just about what I feel. The only difference is, I have no one there to help me back up. You're an amazing writer, keep it up, I hope to be able to read more. -
I love you, no matter what, better or worse your mine and I'll have you either way. and you dont get to choose how far up or down I go. That one's mine
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Awesome piece- I can totally relate to this...which is kinda weird...but I know exactly what you mean. I was dating a guy that knew me better than myself and everything too....it's kinda insane! lol. Couple of spacing problems, and one more problem..."Control is the chains I’m still not free of." I understand why you have "is" b/c it goes with control, but it sounds messy, ya know? Other than that, great write, keep it up
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Perfect
This was a write worth reading. Loved the way things seem to flow in my head when I read this it was quite nice how the question of "Is it worth dying for?" was answered for me somehow.
Nice Write -
Two sides to the story, painted from a solitary perspective... I wonder sometimes why thoughts aren't said more often, but then I remember all the hazards of true communication..
Nicely penned fable... -
great job i like it!!! i want more...lol
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WONDERFUL!!!
Kes!
ok anyways i loved this!! i havent been on AP in a couple day and this is a refreshing story to read as i come back. loved it!
Aunty Doll
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Wow, this is the first story I've read, but this is a great start to looking at stories. Thank you for making my first experience so special, and I hope to see more of your work soon. Take care now, and keep up with the writing.
~Steph~ ~
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This reminds me of a philosophy class. It is such interesting give and take between the parties and I really enjoyed reading it. It kept me rapt until I was through. Very good work.
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I loved this because I saw it as a refuge to all the imposiblities in life....Nice.
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Gold.
Honestly, one of your best. You are good, but there are just some things that stand out because of the quality, the feeling behind it, the truth ringing through the pages, and this definately jumps out as effing amazing. I don't know if it's maybe because I have a teeny understanding of what it's about that I can see that but it doesn't matter why. It just matters that I can. And it's so beautifully written. And OMG the ending! Gah. I absolutely love the ending. A story is nothing without a strong ending (writer's craft anybody?). -
Sorry. I had to applaud this comment and reply cuz... well.. u got it. it's about the things that arent said. Its about the questions that wont get answered.... I dont know. It felt true, this story, and if you knew me and my boyfriend, you'd understand why. But thank you. For understanding. it makes writing the story worthwhile.
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I love this. Pure beauty, plan and simple.
It's not a traditional romance, and I sort of thought of it as two psych majors dating going at it. And then I realized it's something more.
It's more what we feel when we are in a relationship that isn't said. That's what this is to me. All the questions we hold inside. The girl in this story is amazing to have the guy she does.
No hugs, no kisses, no physical contact. Yet Erich Segal would certainly be proud of this love story.
<3 aliana. -
Wow. I honestly don't know what else to write. This is awesome. It moved fast, but not too fast. It didn't go on forever, but it wasn't too short, either.
Good job and keep going... This kind of writing and the people who do it are what make the world go around.
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