Why Didn't He Know?
It all came to him as a shock. His body was still calming down from convulsive stiffness. He stared around the room, looking for something, anything, to give him answers to the questions that viciously scrambled through his head. But, the room was empty except for his bed, dresser, and night stand. It has been only five hours since he found out; to him, it feels like an entire month has passed by at an indescribably, painfully slow pace. Everything around him, the imminent passing of cars, the birds chirping outside his window, the ever-so-often creak in the walls, slowed down; the sounds lulled out, but the sound appeared to come out as a screeching drag of emotion. It hurt his ears. The room was moving, making his head hurt as well. He tried to sit up off the floor that he had recently thrown himself upon, but everything sped up instantly; he almost vomited right there upon himself and he had to lie back down.
Another hour passed. He still was incapable of comprehending any aspect of everything that he had just discovered. Why did this happen to him? How could this happen to him? Why? How? Why? How? His insides screamed, he cringed with pain. Curled up on his side now, he looked down at the rug. It was soft, gentle to the touch, no intentions of impending harm against him. It reminded him of her; he saw her bright smile, her eyes looking into his. Why? How? They just started flowing out of him and he lost full control of himself. His face became drenched with salty tears, his vision blurred, and he hugged his knees closer to his chest now.
He needed to hold her tight in his arms again. He needed to know that this was just a loss reality for a short moment. He needed to know that this was simply a dream, that he needed to wake up soon to see her glowing face looking back at his. The longing pain to wake up made his body ache all over. He tried with everlasting strength to wake himself up. Nothing was working, nothing was helping. He began to panic, shake with fear; he called out her name, cried for her help. He needed for her to come.
Nothing. She was not coming back. In actuality, she was never really there.
Finally, he was able to sit up without excruciating nausea. He peered out the whole in the window blinds; it was dark outside. The one street lamp flickered dimly. The light was almost out, dead. The light was almost in need of repair. Then again, so was he. He reflected over this tragedy he thinks to call his life. He had loved her more than anything; he knew in his mind and in his heart there would no love like that one ever again in his life. He knew he was incapable of loving like that again. He had given her everything he had to offer. He took away her worries and pain. He shed upon her an unconditional love like he had never experienced before. He life was his and he made sure she knew his feelings every time he got the chance to tell her. He knew she knew it for all it really was, but he had a compulsion to tell her anyways. He was stupid to ever think she felt the same way.
He got up and dragged his feet to the bathroom. He flipped the light switch, blinding himself for a short period of time. As his eyes adjusted, he stared into the mirror. His reflection was skewed, almost non-existent. This fact made him well up inside. His stomach dropped quicker than light passing through a cord. Right now, he was so lost. His shoulders began to shrug further and further until he fell to the cold, bare tile floor. He lied there for a while longer.
The sound of a ringing telephone pierced his ears. He shot up at the instant thought that it was her. He quickly crawled out of the bathroom and found the phone at the last possible ring. It was not her, just a telemarketer. He raged in fury, throwing the phone at the wall. The phone smashed to several pieces as it hit the floor. He was done crying over this girl who did him wrong.
Angrily, he found a duffel bag and shoved all the clothes he could into the bag. He grabbed his old acoustic guitar from the back of his closet. It was covered in dust and looked so worn it made him angrier. He had given up his one love at the time to be with her. She made him put that guitar away. Now that she was gone, he was taking it back out. He threw on his shoes and with his limited amount of items, stormed out the front door.
At the sidewalk, he turned left. That left would take him away, away to somewhere better. Taking a right would only bring him right back to her. He did not know where he was going. He did not know where he expected to end up. When he finally got there, he would just know. Things would speak to him again, tell him he is where he should really be. Again, he reflected over his past. He was mad and sad and still filled with raging emotions. The only difference was he was able to control those emotions and channel them into what he desired. Before, he had lost sight of his true life, what he was meant to be and meant to do. He had given her everything and she had given nothing in return. She ripped his heart out and left it in the dirt to slowly die. But, he got there before all hope was lost and retrieved what was rightfully his. His heart, life, soul, being no longer belonged to her. She had won nothing, but lost all. He had not lost a thing, but conquered all. He was angered that he did not know, that he did not see what was right in front of him. But, he could not change the past; this would only help him shape his future in the opposite direction. He was stronger now and she could no longer hurt him. She left him out for dead and this would be the last time she let him down.
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