The following is an extract of the author's exaggerated view point of a failed relationship. In no way is it meant to reflect reality.
- Pride.
A meaningless emotion, formed of our personification as human beings of what we consider superiority. It defines us sometimes, vigorously running through our bloodstream, beating deeply inside our hearts as we look outside to the world, challenging it for our existence.
- We run.
Our pride, forces us to avoid what stands tall and strong, in plain black and white. Denial to accept, denial to believe in what we can't fathom to accept. It was done, from the moment that it started, and you and I both knew that. Yet we fight, meaninglessly, for the chance to not only rebuild but to claim back. Claim back that stance we had where we thought we knew it all. The perfect failure, a relationship doomed to start from the moment it was planned to succeed. Pride brought it down upon us, and like all tyrants, claimed another two for its victory. At the end of day, none of us won, pride did.
- Then comes the humour.
The sick, twisted, mentality that above all, this is perhaps is a bit ludicrous; almost amusing to an extent.
"He giggled. An unusual form of laughter, that teetered on the edge between dark and light, its meaning quite indiscernible to those who weren't aware of its context. Surely this cannot be happening again. After all, you were supposed to be different. When you experience pain, you're not stupid enough to deliver back are you? You learn, and recognise and perhaps move on? Nope, he sighed, his breath laced with the fumes of early hours drinking. Never a good sign. Hysteria often cropped up in his list of common words to describe what he was feeling.
Relaxed, his mind seemed overjoyed by the thought of the future. Deep down he knew he was above this, but the joy of tormenting someone for the pain they had caused him, was far too tempting a treat to give in. He succumbed and so the cycle of emotion began once more."
- Live for the drama, die for the pain; do it all over again.
"It's all a game to you isn't it? Yes, agreed, cheekily smiling back as if his mind was cruel enough to inflict such a rhetorical response. True he knew he'd hurt, but at this moment, this was a game, that nobody won. And if nobody won, he sure as hell was not going to end up on the bottom of the pile. His responses, grew increasingly more platonic and cryptic, simple words delivering context with a finality about it."
- Freedom.
The first few days are the hardest. Then time begins to lapse, a blurred memory of evil, sighs become that of remembrance, and what would have been. Bruised but not broken. A lesson to learn from, for next time.
