-- A short story inspired by Taylor Swift. Thank you Taylor! Haha! Her song: Back to December. Click the vid at the left to get it--
I’m Sorry
I should have said sorry, I know. I didn’t have the courage to, I never did. I still see him, walking the streets, hands in pocket, hood down. Sometimes I think a tear is falling down his cheek but I tell myself that it’s just a trick of the light. Or the streetlight.
The shadow falls on the road, with the last of the birds calling out before they turn in for the night. The sky is clear tonight, with stars twinkling above. I stick my head further out, the breeze swirling around me. Something wet falls on my cheek and I lift my hands to rub it away. It’s another tear. Should I be sad? Is there enough sadness in the world, regret to feel what I’m feeling? I had everything, anything I wanted. But I gave it away, why? Was it cowardice, or was it just me? Was I a coward?
Time passes, and I sit there, head out of window. I reach a hand out to the sky, but there is nothing to hold, not anymore. My hands feel frightfully empty with nothing by air hugging them. They feel empty, worthless, and I pull them back in, letting them fall limply at my side.
Is there a magic formula to love? Chemistry? Anything? More than eyes locking, hearts beating, hearts jumping. Is there more to that? Deeper? How do you know that you’re in love? Do you smile each time they call your name? Or do you dream about them non-stop?
People do this with crushes, not with those they love. I don’t know love, do I? I’m a kid, barely sixteen! Could I know love? Do I know what it is? So many teenagers say they know what love is, but do they really? One day they may never leave the side of those they love, and the next, they’re covered in tears, barely able to get out of bed, hidden under the covers. They say their heart is broken, mangled... that it can’t be repaired.
Two months later, they’re dating someone else, and this time, they may be the one to break the other person’s heart, even though they loved them? That isn’t love, is it?
I don’t want to make same mistake as others. I don’t want to get too close, because then there may be no way out. I can get trapped, helpless, a dove in a cage. An injured dove in a cage. I want my dove to be set free, not caged up; that’s just cruel.
That’s the reason I tell myself, the reason why I did what I did. I didn’t have the choice, I tell myself. I didn’t! What else could I say when he told me those fateful three words. Those three small words that change everything. How was I supposed to answer him? I couldn’t, I still can’t... can I? I am nothing but a wimp. A cold, heartless wimp that somehow thinks that hurting others for her own sake is fine. That her security is more important that someone’s happiness.
I disgust myself.
I clench my jaw as the tears come down, full force now. I try to keep my eyes glued shut so they won’t spill, but like everything else in life, I fail at it. Banging my fist down on the deep purple duvet, I have an urge to scream, to let it all out. But I can’t. Mom and Dad are sleeping in the room next to me and they’ll run in again, wondering what’s wrong. I don’t want their sympathy, their care, because I’m not the one who needs it. I need to be locked up, starved, anything! But this... pain, this feeling of emptiness. This feeling of utter contempt for oneself. It’s a hollow pain, a terrifying pain, a pain that clings onto you and never lets you go.
Since that day three weeks ago, I haven’t spoken to him at all, no text, no call, no nothing. I see him in town, by the canal, our favourite spot that I still walk to. Eyes locked with his once, but I was the one to tear them away, and to run back home, lock myself up in my room, and fall down to the hard wooden floor, defeated.
I think about what’s going to happen now. Shall we ever speak again? Can he ever forgive me? Can I forgive me? He gave me everything, his love, his care, his trust... but I... I gave him nothing back. I gave him farewell, a broken heart, and broken dreams. I broke our dreams, those dreams that you never speak but aloud, but we both know we’re thinking them. The dreams of the future.
I would go back, I know I would. I would go back and change it all, everything I told him, everything I did to him. I’d go back to that evening on the banks of the canal, under that big oak tree and tell him that I loved him too. At the party that night, I wouldn’t go and kiss the other guy, just to prove a point that wasn’t even true. I’d go back and save those love letters from being thrown into the fireplace, those roses from dying. I’d save our love from dying.
Sniffing, I pull my phone out and punch in the message,
I’m sorry, I... love you.
And then I press send.
