I was sitting cross-legged on Roger's bed, watching him sleep. It was sort
of a habit that I picked up several months ago, and since then, it had
become a hard one to break.
When April died.. God, it felt like yesterday, but ironically, yesterday felt farther away than we could reach. In reality, I didn't know how long it had been since then. I spent my days trying to 'be there' for Roger, afraid that the minute I left the apartment, my roommate would need me. Both of us, I suppose, had lost all sense of time.
Of course, I went out on occasion, because someone had to buy food, even though I was the only one who ever ate anymore. Roger had lost a lot of weight, and I knew that he was uncomfortable with himself. I think that was more a question of mentality, though. You know, like he didn't feel good in his mind. He was trapped, sort of, and you could almost imagine his heart beating it's little wings inside of his ribcage, wanting desperately to break free.
There were no drugs to carry him away anymore, but I often caught him staring down at the street below. I think he wanted to fly, in both a literal and a metaphorical sense.
---
Mark was watching me. I could feel it. It didn't really bother me anymore, though. I knew that he couldn't sleep without making sure I was alright, and often, I pretended to be calm so that he could get some rest. His well- being was more important than mine.
I think that was where I went wrong with April. God, April..
See, I loved her. I really did, there's no denying that. Only maybe it wasn't the kind of love I thought it should be, you know? We started out as friends, and that was how I always imagined us. It came as quite a surprise when she told me she loved me. I didn't know what to say, so I told her that I loved her, too. I mean, I thought I did- I wanted to protect her, I wanted to be there for her. When she talked about marriage and children together, it didn't feel right to me. That wasn't the kind of love we were supposed to share.
I don't think I really understood the difference between 'loving someone' and 'being in love.' Only now that I'd said it, how could I take it back? How could I hurt her?
But I did hurt her, and she died.
That was because of me.
When April died.. God, it felt like yesterday, but ironically, yesterday felt farther away than we could reach. In reality, I didn't know how long it had been since then. I spent my days trying to 'be there' for Roger, afraid that the minute I left the apartment, my roommate would need me. Both of us, I suppose, had lost all sense of time.
Of course, I went out on occasion, because someone had to buy food, even though I was the only one who ever ate anymore. Roger had lost a lot of weight, and I knew that he was uncomfortable with himself. I think that was more a question of mentality, though. You know, like he didn't feel good in his mind. He was trapped, sort of, and you could almost imagine his heart beating it's little wings inside of his ribcage, wanting desperately to break free.
There were no drugs to carry him away anymore, but I often caught him staring down at the street below. I think he wanted to fly, in both a literal and a metaphorical sense.
---
Mark was watching me. I could feel it. It didn't really bother me anymore, though. I knew that he couldn't sleep without making sure I was alright, and often, I pretended to be calm so that he could get some rest. His well- being was more important than mine.
I think that was where I went wrong with April. God, April..
See, I loved her. I really did, there's no denying that. Only maybe it wasn't the kind of love I thought it should be, you know? We started out as friends, and that was how I always imagined us. It came as quite a surprise when she told me she loved me. I didn't know what to say, so I told her that I loved her, too. I mean, I thought I did- I wanted to protect her, I wanted to be there for her. When she talked about marriage and children together, it didn't feel right to me. That wasn't the kind of love we were supposed to share.
I don't think I really understood the difference between 'loving someone' and 'being in love.' Only now that I'd said it, how could I take it back? How could I hurt her?
But I did hurt her, and she died.
That was because of me.