I Could Die For You (Editing In Progress)

78

I walked into the bus station, weary and tearful. People gave me odd looks at every turn. I guess they haven't seen any romance movies from the 80s because apparently seeing a girl struggling with luggage, smeared makeup and crying eyes is weird.

Thankfully, I had enough money to buy a ticket to Seattle on a Greyhound, or rather three tickets, as I would have to change buses three times.

The entire trip lasted a day, and I returned to my apartment around 3 o'clock in the afternoon the following day. When I opened the door, I felt nothing. It felt like nothing had ever happened to me, like I'd never met Anthony, I'd never left this apartment. It was raining outside, like usual and my records were right where I left them. Perfect, and something I would've loved to come home to. I didn't love it.

I set down my bags, and wiped my eyes crusted with makeup. I sniffled, walked over to the glass door leading out to balcony, and pressed myself up against it. The rain fell down, bleeding all over the city and me. It made me feel clogged with emotion, and it brought back the memory of the rainless California I had spent many days in. The whole I had in my body was throbbing, and I needed to be out in the rain more than I needed death to help me breathe.

I pushed open the door, and greeted myself with the drops of ice cold water lovingly. My body fell to the floor, my knees supporting my weight. I was already becoming soaked, but to no affect it had bothered me. A sob escaped my mouth, then a dozen more. They blended in with the cracks of thunder, so not even I could hear the depressing sounds of the heartbreak I couldn't pretend wasn't there. It was pulsing through me in waves, and no matter how hard I tried, every time I closed my eyes, I saw Anthony and I felt the wasted love.

The rain absorbed into my body quicker than ever before, and in all its oddness, I felt like it knew I need its comfort. My fingers gripped the bars of the balcony fencing, until the skin turned white, and I couldn't break my position. My cries turned into moans, and moans turned into silence. I couldn't produce another sound; my lungs had been screamed out. The only thing left of me was feeling. Feeling I couldn't describe, nor get rid of.

Thoughts were of me as well. Thoughts composed of jumping off the balcony so I wouldn't have to go through what I would later call an "Anthony withdraw". Thoughts like calling Anthony up and screaming at him, thoughts like calling Anthony up and confessing my love and forgiveness, even though it had only been a day. I knew it was over, and it hurt the most.

I turned my body, and laid down on my back, so my eyes saw nothing but stormy skies. I wondered what people thought of me, laying on my balcony, crying, and praying to the rain. I wondered if they thought of me at all. I wondered if I would ever move, but how much of a difference would it make? The feeling would remain the same. I would feel like shattered glass, and I'd feel like I had been cut by it.

A battle started in my heart. To curse Anthony, or to love him secretly. I'd realize the real battle was for me to see I was dying.