Disclaimer: I own the plot. That's it.
This is for you, even if you'll never read it because it doesn't look like your ever going to speak to me again.
Humans are capable of hundreds of different emotions. Most of them we can't label, can barely describe. A lot of them are negative, sadness, frustration, betrayal, the list goes on. Up until last year I was sure that guilt was the worst emotion. It eats you up inside, and not only does it hurt just as much as sadness, but it's all your fault too. I've become an expert on guilt in the past year. It's my best friend. It comes over on Friday nights and sits with me as I watch TV, it uses up the hot water and takes the last of the milk. Over the past couple of weeks its slowly been moving in. Leaving it's toothbrush here, then a suitcase, then two.
It's not the worst though.
Love.
Love is the one emotion that everyone longs for and hates. For me, it is the one thing that I can always rely on to hurt. Because love is what got me into this mess in the first place. Love is why I cry in the bathroom with the water on so no one will hear me.
I needed him. He was the one person in the world who could always make me smile. The only one I believed when he told me that everything would be alright.
That's what they told me when it happened.
"It'll be alright."
"You'll be fine"
"It wasn't your fault."
It's not alright. And if your definition of "fine" is staring for hours on end at blank walls, the ocean, or the static on the TV screen. Then yes, I am fine. But you have some messed up standards.
That's how my mind seems to work now. Like the static on the screen that shows up whenever there's a big storm. If I just push everything else, just focus on that stupid annoying buzzing sound, then I can get by. My body can continue to function without me. I talk, go to class, walk home.
I just can't feel. Functioning and actually being alive are two very different things.
It's been a year. A whole fucking year of this. I try not to look to far into the future because I know that if I do I'll realize that there are many more of these to come.
I saw an article in the paper the other day, saying that love wasn't really an emotion. It was just a chemical reaction. That monogamy was ridiculous because being in love with one person throughout your life was only possible with major physiological instruction.
Bullshit.
I took chemistry in high school. No amount of hormones makes you feel like this. This hollow feeling doesn't have anything to do with a lack of oxygen.
This is love. This is slowly dying of heartbreak. This is made even worse because no matter what they say, there are a million things I could have done to prevent it. This is my fault.
I don't need sleeping pills or a razor. I can kill myself perfectly well, even if it is unintentionally.
I didn't mean it Jesse.
A/N-This actually isn't a one-shot for once.
This is for you, even if you'll never read it because it doesn't look like your ever going to speak to me again.
Humans are capable of hundreds of different emotions. Most of them we can't label, can barely describe. A lot of them are negative, sadness, frustration, betrayal, the list goes on. Up until last year I was sure that guilt was the worst emotion. It eats you up inside, and not only does it hurt just as much as sadness, but it's all your fault too. I've become an expert on guilt in the past year. It's my best friend. It comes over on Friday nights and sits with me as I watch TV, it uses up the hot water and takes the last of the milk. Over the past couple of weeks its slowly been moving in. Leaving it's toothbrush here, then a suitcase, then two.
It's not the worst though.
Love.
Love is the one emotion that everyone longs for and hates. For me, it is the one thing that I can always rely on to hurt. Because love is what got me into this mess in the first place. Love is why I cry in the bathroom with the water on so no one will hear me.
I needed him. He was the one person in the world who could always make me smile. The only one I believed when he told me that everything would be alright.
That's what they told me when it happened.
"It'll be alright."
"You'll be fine"
"It wasn't your fault."
It's not alright. And if your definition of "fine" is staring for hours on end at blank walls, the ocean, or the static on the TV screen. Then yes, I am fine. But you have some messed up standards.
That's how my mind seems to work now. Like the static on the screen that shows up whenever there's a big storm. If I just push everything else, just focus on that stupid annoying buzzing sound, then I can get by. My body can continue to function without me. I talk, go to class, walk home.
I just can't feel. Functioning and actually being alive are two very different things.
It's been a year. A whole fucking year of this. I try not to look to far into the future because I know that if I do I'll realize that there are many more of these to come.
I saw an article in the paper the other day, saying that love wasn't really an emotion. It was just a chemical reaction. That monogamy was ridiculous because being in love with one person throughout your life was only possible with major physiological instruction.
Bullshit.
I took chemistry in high school. No amount of hormones makes you feel like this. This hollow feeling doesn't have anything to do with a lack of oxygen.
This is love. This is slowly dying of heartbreak. This is made even worse because no matter what they say, there are a million things I could have done to prevent it. This is my fault.
I don't need sleeping pills or a razor. I can kill myself perfectly well, even if it is unintentionally.
I didn't mean it Jesse.
A/N-This actually isn't a one-shot for once.