The Never-Ending Melancholy
The sensation that the memory brought with it was unbearable. Oftentimes, she wondered how she even made it through all that suffering, but usually she just didn't like to think of it. It was something she wished she could forget, but settled instead with ignoring it. She thought it to be an ugly, filthy little memory best left behind and buried. But it was on nights such as these, with nothing but the cold emptiness of her bed to comfort her…that her mind drifted to thoughts of it, more specifically thoughts of her. She liked to think that if she dug her nails into her palms hard enough, it would scare the memory away, and usually it did. But tonight, with the gloomy and still darkness hanging around her like fog; it was but a spark of pain and nothing else.
She had certainly been something special. She always knew how to press the right buttons physically and mentally. She would never forget the nights where the beautiful girl had made her feel warm, welcomed… alive. Oh, how she wished she could. It had been easier back then. She had accepted her solitude…embraced it and learned to live with it. She would spend eternity gaining, losing, gaining, and losing once again. So she decided to shut everything out. She had known getting attached was dangerous and stupid. Completely…and totally…foolish. But that girl had to ruin everything, crumbled the barrier she had set up around herself and then forced herself into her heart. That stupid, obnoxious girl had made everything so difficult.
She opened her eyes partly and was met with the dim glow of the moon through the window, the only light in her solitary darkness. It was distant and far-off, unreachable just like her. She felt restless, and the idea of closing her eyes to thoughts of her again was unthinkable. The girl slipped off her bed, pulling on heavy clothes and padding silently out of her bedroom. Like everything else, this house held memories of her. She vividly recalled the first day they moved in together, long before she left her. The wind was chilly as she stepped out into the darkly lit street, her midnight locks of hair swaying with the breeze as she walked.
It was a long, silent journey, the only sound being the dull taps her boots made on the ground. When she stepped onto soft grass, even that sound was distinguished like a candle in the wind. She kneeled, slipping her hand into her pocket to pull out a soft red flower. She placed it down in front of her, a soft mound of earth, with a graceful, slim, white headstone. Moisture streamed down her face, her throat suffocated her from the inside, she found it hard to breathe. She held her face in her hands and let her heart out. She stilled after a long time, hands on the ground and eyes sore from crying. Then she stood, and smiled a broken smile, "Even when you're gone I still find ways to bother you…I bet you're sick of me coming here," She stared up at the moon. "Sick of me pitying myself. It's best I forget you," Her throat swelled and she choked on her words. "Forgive me for being weak."
Even though she said those things. She knew…knew she could never forget. Never stop being haunted by her. In the silent darkness, her heart broke shattered into pieces…more pieces then it had been in before. She felt the pull of that woman as she walked, the pull she felt all the time, every single agonizing second of the day. In a few days time, in a few days of being gone, she would be dragged back by that pull, and visit once again…with a pretty red flower, a sad smile, and tears.