I needed someplace to go. The world had gotten far too overwhelming and my nerves were shot. A person could only deal with so much before they got to their breaking point, and I had passed that roadblock miles back.
Somehow I found myself in front of his house. My feet just carried me for hours once I left the apartment. They would have hurt had they not been as numb as my hands. A jacket had been one of the last things on my mind when I got dressed and left.
I couldn't deal with hearing him happy. That grating laughter, the smile on his face as he stared lovingly into the eyes of his new love interest. It was sickening how happy he was.
He didn't deserve happiness. I may be a bitch for feeling that way, but he was an asshole and a whore, and those that treat others like shit don't deserve to be happy in my book.
I couldn't feel my feet, but I assumed they were moving forward as the front door seemed to be moving closer and closer. What time was it? How long had I walked just to wind up here? Why had I come here?
This is the closest I had been to the man that tore my heart to pieces in eight months. After two years he had broken up with me, stating that I relied on him too much. Pardon me for losing a father and winding up homeless all a week after my birthday.
Single, homeless, fatherless; all shortly following a day that was supposed to be spent bathed in a happy glow. Mine was spent cooking my own dinner, planning my own party, then having only two people show up.
I felt my hand raise up and make a fist. Was I going to knock? There were no lights on in the house. His parents were probably asleep. He was probably asleep.
"I still love you." It had been my voice, but I don't remember forming the thought that had led to it being spoken. I knew by the pain in my chest though that it was true. He had been my first real love, the first man to truly show me what it meant to be happy, to invest his time in me, to show me that he cared.
Now, broke, in debt, heaet-broken and utterly lost, I stood on his porch after not having seen or spoken to him in eight months. "Im crazy," I laughed softly to myself. A sob broke through the laugh and I bit down on my cheek, relishing in the pain. It was an anchor that kept me from floating down the river of red.
Of course, it was also an anchor that set me assail on that sweet red river to oblivion once upon a time. The numbness faded in my hands a bit. Just enough to hurt. Just enough to make things real again, to snap me out of whatever had led me there. Just enough to make me realize it was time to book another ticket down that red river. It was easy enough to find, easy enough to let flow to the end.
Did he deserve that? Did he start everything? No. But he was certainly the one thing that could have made it better, bearable. I guess that makes him as guilty as anyone.
I pulled out my keys and stared down at them, shining in the dull street lights. My friends, if you could call them that, would know why I chose that spot. Im sure some of them would be sad. Most would spare a thought then move on with their lives. Not like it mattered to me. I wouldn't be around to get angry or sad.
The key somehow managed to feel cold against my skin despite how icy I was. There was a brief flash of heat, followed by a moment of sweet surrender as the red river flowed.
The warmth was replaced by biting cold when the river met the air. The ice crawled into my arm, up into my shoulder. Before long I couldn't feel anything.
When I had wound up on the ground, I didn't know. Did it matter? I supposed not. Perhaps it had been an eternity ago. How long did the ship have left to sail? Maybe an eternity more.
As I laid there on the pavement, A sense of peace overcame me. It was the first peace I had felt in long time, and instead of the sadness I figured would have continued to grip me, I was overcome with happiness. There would be no more pain. No more life to contend with. Just sweet oblivion.
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