"What the fuck do you mean we need to take a break?" He couldn't doing this to me, not now. He knows how much I need him to be there, and then he tells me that we need to take a fucking break. He has to be kidding me right now. The air was bitter against my bare skin. Goosebumps erupted on the flesh exposed to the brisk winds of a Saturday night in California. I actually adored cold weather, it was an excuse for me to buy a coffee so I could attempt to warm the inside of a rather frozen and frostbitten heart.
"It's exactly what it means." His voice was so monotone. It's like he couldn't give a fuck about what's happening right now. His voice was so smooth even though it put together a sentence that was so very rough that it cut me. It cut so deep that it almost went straight through bone. It was another scar to add to an ever-growing collection. Which number was this one? Number 14, perhaps it's more along the lines of 39. Honestly, I don't know anymore, I've lost count so long ago.
"You know what, fine we can take a goddamn break, just tell me this, what made you come to the conclusion that you wanted to take a fucking break?" I didn't give a shit about who heard me. I'm pretty sure people in a fifty mile radius could hear me. I wanted him to hear all the pain and anger that he was causing me. I wanted him to hear that he was just another broken promise, I wanted him to the crack, no, the fissure he had just created inside of me. I wanted him to hear it loud and motherfucking clear.
"I just don't feel it anymore." The cold air was rushing around me, sweeping my hair along with it. Colors flickering and changing on the traffic light. Green, red, yellow, just a constant cycle. No complications, no problems, that constant cycle. I envied that traffic light, it mocked me with something I knew I would never have, security, consistency. "You don't feel what anymore, Beck? What is it you don't feel?" He wouldn't look at me, what was wrong with me? Am I some sort of freak? Why wouldn't he look at me? I at least to be looked in the eye if he was going to break my heart.
"The love, we fight all the time and I just don't think I can take it anymore." And with that he got into his truck and left. He's gone, he left. He fucking left. I don't even know what to do anymore. I don't even think I can feel anything anymore. I feel so numb, I feel so dead. I can't even feel my heart beating at this point. I think I forgot how to breathe. Silently, I made my way to my car. The key was inserted into the ignition and the car purred to life. I quickly left the parking lot of a place that was forever plagued with a sickening memory that was replaying in my head and it made a porno feel like a home. I didn't really know where I was going and I didn't pay an ounce of attention. In hindsight I wish I did because I didn't see the semi speeding towards me...Tires screeching, the loud horn singing through my ears, my foot pounded against the brake in a feeble attempt to save my life or at least have as minimal damage as possible done. The idiot in the semi barely missed me, he was more than likely drunk. I seriously need to get home and sleep until I die or until society finally decides to get its shit together, preferably the former because the latter is gonna take a hell of a long time to get done. I really don't want to communicate with anyone so those who attempt to will probably the cause of my life sentence in prison because of a third-degree murder case. I pull into the driveway of a place I long ago did not consider a home. I barge through ebony doors, grunt a half hearted greeting that's a mixture of "hello" and "fuck off" to my parents and sulk my way up the stairs. My boots collide with each step and I rather enjoy the sound, it causes me to imagine I'm crushing someone's skull. I reach my room, toss my bag on the floor and kick off my boots. I grab my laptop and decide to update my Slap page status before going to bed.
Jade West: I hate life.
Mood: Dead.
I close my laptop and sink down into my mattress, pulling the midnight black comforter over my head and I sleep away the rest of this horrendous night.
"It's exactly what it means." His voice was so monotone. It's like he couldn't give a fuck about what's happening right now. His voice was so smooth even though it put together a sentence that was so very rough that it cut me. It cut so deep that it almost went straight through bone. It was another scar to add to an ever-growing collection. Which number was this one? Number 14, perhaps it's more along the lines of 39. Honestly, I don't know anymore, I've lost count so long ago.
"You know what, fine we can take a goddamn break, just tell me this, what made you come to the conclusion that you wanted to take a fucking break?" I didn't give a shit about who heard me. I'm pretty sure people in a fifty mile radius could hear me. I wanted him to hear all the pain and anger that he was causing me. I wanted him to hear that he was just another broken promise, I wanted him to the crack, no, the fissure he had just created inside of me. I wanted him to hear it loud and motherfucking clear.
"I just don't feel it anymore." The cold air was rushing around me, sweeping my hair along with it. Colors flickering and changing on the traffic light. Green, red, yellow, just a constant cycle. No complications, no problems, that constant cycle. I envied that traffic light, it mocked me with something I knew I would never have, security, consistency. "You don't feel what anymore, Beck? What is it you don't feel?" He wouldn't look at me, what was wrong with me? Am I some sort of freak? Why wouldn't he look at me? I at least to be looked in the eye if he was going to break my heart.
"The love, we fight all the time and I just don't think I can take it anymore." And with that he got into his truck and left. He's gone, he left. He fucking left. I don't even know what to do anymore. I don't even think I can feel anything anymore. I feel so numb, I feel so dead. I can't even feel my heart beating at this point. I think I forgot how to breathe. Silently, I made my way to my car. The key was inserted into the ignition and the car purred to life. I quickly left the parking lot of a place that was forever plagued with a sickening memory that was replaying in my head and it made a porno feel like a home. I didn't really know where I was going and I didn't pay an ounce of attention. In hindsight I wish I did because I didn't see the semi speeding towards me...Tires screeching, the loud horn singing through my ears, my foot pounded against the brake in a feeble attempt to save my life or at least have as minimal damage as possible done. The idiot in the semi barely missed me, he was more than likely drunk. I seriously need to get home and sleep until I die or until society finally decides to get its shit together, preferably the former because the latter is gonna take a hell of a long time to get done. I really don't want to communicate with anyone so those who attempt to will probably the cause of my life sentence in prison because of a third-degree murder case. I pull into the driveway of a place I long ago did not consider a home. I barge through ebony doors, grunt a half hearted greeting that's a mixture of "hello" and "fuck off" to my parents and sulk my way up the stairs. My boots collide with each step and I rather enjoy the sound, it causes me to imagine I'm crushing someone's skull. I reach my room, toss my bag on the floor and kick off my boots. I grab my laptop and decide to update my Slap page status before going to bed.
Jade West: I hate life.
Mood: Dead.
I close my laptop and sink down into my mattress, pulling the midnight black comforter over my head and I sleep away the rest of this horrendous night.
