I Forgot to Love You

                I sit here alone only wishing I was there with you, there when you needed me instead of walking out on you and leaving you with a broken heart and a promise unfulfilled.

It was of no use really, to mourn about a past love, to mourn about happiness that was never meant to be. The problem was that it was hard to conceive or believe that my world was falling apart into the ocean of tears my heart was suddenly immersed in. I tossed in the bed several times before throwing my blankets away, and walked to the cold window pane to stare at the wintry barren lands and nude trees that flanked our neighborhood lane. The winter winds outside took away the dwindling warmth of the fall and the locked away in its white splendor the shreds of spring. I watched to moon slowly sail through the gray sky, parting clouds like a ship would do with waves. The moon used to bring peace and sleep to my tired mind, but not anymore, since I met her, she had changed the meaning of the luminescent orb in my life. It reminded me of her and her tear-stricken face when I left her alone in that ravaged garden of roses that was her shattered dreams.

I pulled the chair from my desk and heavily plopped down on it, reaching for a blank paper and a pen. My pen and the scribbles it produced where my solace in recent times, thus I started to trace the pen over the paper and watch, awe-struck, at the ink spilling from the nib and creating the path my bleeding heart commanded. This had become my nightly exercise upon waking up at some time past midnight and close to dawn, her favorite times of the day. Everything reminded me of her; like she was imprinted in nature’s every gesture. I hated that fact.

Twenty minutes slowly died away and I wondered, how would forever feel like? She liked the word forever; she argued it embodied an almost sacred and always-terrifying and alluring beauty. Of course, I disagreed, after all it was only a word out of the many that were part of the dictionary; we never fought over the meaning of the word though. There was no point really. I mean, you know what people say, every head a different world, therefore we were from two different worlds, so to speak. I never understood why, but forever seemed a word I wished to avoid back then, now, there wasn’t a forever anymore.

I dropped the pen and yawned. I ruffled my hair and pulled hard at it with the sole purpose of ripping it all off my scalp. I had done it again. With a swift movement of my arm, the contents lying untouched and uncared for in my desk were flying in the air waiting for gravity to play its role in my anger. Sir Isaac Newton would’ve been really grateful for the wonderful uses of his discovery and theories turned into fact. Pens, paper, and other office supplies fell on the floor with its distinct noisy clatter, piercing the stillness of the night, and scattered around my bedroom floor. I crumpled the page I had been working on and threw it at the door, wishing I would’ve stayed in bed instead of following my sleepless desires to call night on me.

The moonlight played with the shadows of my bedroom, indifferent at my agony and frustration. I pulled the curtains shut and waited until my eyes adjusted to the growing darkness surrounding me. Through the thin drapes, I could still see the moon hovering over the starlit sky and wondered if she was watching the moon as well. A growing feeling of guilt flooded to my haggard face and my shoulders slumped, not out of tiredness but out of defeat. It was true what people repeated over and over again: you never appreciate something or someone until it’s gone. In my case, she was gone for good. Not for my good, mind you, but for hers. This pathetic excuse for a break-up sounded thoroughly overdone and regurgitated among various young adult romance novels, but strongly I felt it applied to me as well: I didn’t deserve her.

Sleep finally started to appear around the corner of my consciousness and I, eager for the ride, crawled back to my bed. First and foremost, I shook any remaining thoughts of her or the moon and delved myself into the deep slumber that would soon end after four hours. I always considered myself a failure, and this particular night, I failed at keeping her at the bay of my unconsciousness. I dreamt of her.

One nagging thought crossed my mind before closing my eyes, I had written her name again, just like the last couple of nights.

The End

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