He looked to his left, then to his right, turned his head around once more to make sure that no one was spying on him. Then, he dropped his writing equipment and collapsed onto the floor.
You had that one fucking opportunity to prove yourself.
Sure, in life we make many endeavours, but what we were never taught is that if we were like most people, we are likely to fail a lot of those endeavours. He thought that he had it too. He took a hard knock to his head and felt the pain oozing down from his head, spreading a message across his entire body......
I want to forget about this. Fast.
He took another swing to the head until it got so addictive that he depended on it to feel good. The pain had suddenly vanished and was replaced by an odd sense of relief that brought upon ecstasy. It dawned down on him that chances were that if he punished himself enough for his mistake, perhaps it would be easier for him to forgive. So yeah, he'd continue to do it.
Release me......
It wasn't enough. He had to scream his lungs out, or maybe let something tear his voice apart. He wanted to destroy something and make it scary. He craved for a stronger sensation to overcome the draggy aftermath feeling of fucking disappointment. He knew what he was capable of doing. He had the odds in his favour. It just wasn't his day. Such cruelty and unfairness playing him like a toy in God's ever fair game.
Alas, his eyes became watery and he succumbed to his own tears for the first time since the longest time. It was like as if he needed some form of permission to cry, or to let go of what he had been fighting so hard to hold back for a long time, and down went the waterfall like whoosh...... OH YEAH, YOU BET HE CRIED. He cried as if tomorrow was over, banging his fists onto the floor again and again until he grew tired of repeating himself.
Is it over yet?
She peered from behind one of those nearby pillars, and waited. She watched him tear himself apart, from bit to bit and held her breath in. She was there, but only did she watch. Like one of those million stars in the sky, she would probably wonder when he's going to stop, but not want to approach him. It wasn't that she was afraid, or that she hated the fact that she was just another passer by who happened to see someone want to destruct himself and is torn between what to do. She knew that she couldn't help him.
If you can't fix something and make it better, at least don't make it worse.
She patiently waited until he pulled himself together, wiped every last tear drop off his sunken face which was still red from all the pressure he had exerted upon himself, and watched him leave, leaving nothing more than his broken and faltered memory of today's failure behind. Her eyes never left his scarred back, and as she tried not to shed any more emotion than how a stranger would feel to see another beautiful passer by leave forever on a bus which will end the light hearted moment as the bus drifts further and further away, she let out a sigh, swept up the fallen leaves from the broken pavement, and walked away.
The End,
CCM.
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