“This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.“
APOLOGY LETTER FROM HELL
Her name was Indigo, and I broke her heart.
It all started six years ago in a convenient store on the corner of my block, where I worked part time, stocking shelves and taking out the trash. She was a cashier, and perhaps the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen before in my life. I know that sounds cliche but it’s true.
We’d often go to a fancy restaurant out of town to spend time together. Two spoons to share a peanut butter ice cream dessert before we end the night… Good times.
Things were so much better when we didn’t live together. Being under one roof and sleeping in the same bed every night was to much time together for me. I just think everyone needs time apart to miss someone.
The relationship lasted for four years, and there was no doubt in my mind that I loved her, but for some odd reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to propose to her. She wanted it more than I did, and though it seemed as if we were already married, something in me could not make it official. I never took that step forward. Instead, Continue Reading
I promised myself this would be the very last time I ever mention or think about my ex-girlfriend and our relationship. This is necessary if I plan to move on and continue my life’s journey. She has her way of dealing with it, and I have come up with my own method of moving on and closing the book on that period of my life. This story will act as the bookend to the last year of my life.
Sitting on the dining room table was a cell phone and heavily taped cardboard box, addressed to Josef Crowman, that would be I, standing over the contents, debating which of the two should I use first. My right hand hesitantly hovered over top of the items as I imagined both a pleasant and unpleasant ending to the situation.
I reached for the phone first, dialing the first number atop the Favorites list of my Contacts application. My breathing became heavy as I began to sweat profusely while awaiting the receiver of the call to answer. To my surprise, the call switched over to voice mail, causing me to believe she no longer wanted to speak to me. I tried again, hoping she felt as I did, sad, lonely and incomplete.
My heart—what little remained after the breakup—needed her more than it did it’s next beat. The night does to me, bringing on the memories that my mind refuses to let go of, crippling me as I would sit around reminiscing over her. I had finally reached the endgame of it all, and those two items that were on the table would be a forked road, and I stood in-between, awaiting a sign from each side as to where I was meant to go. Continue Reading
I can’t speak for these other guys out here, but I could never handle breakups well. Some people can move on to the next person within a week’s time, and some spend several weeks locked in their room, crying until they can’t do it anymore. I’ll shed some light on the most popular solution.
LETS PLAY PRETEND
I hate this part.
The relationship we spent so much time building together is over, and so comes the part where I’m supposed to become something completely different than who I am.
My Facebook marital status has to change from “In A Relationship” to “Single” and back to “In A Relationship.” to give people the impression that I have committed myself to another relationship, all within a week’s time.
Next, I should tell friends of my social network page “I’m Loving Life,” to act as if I have found some incredible form of happiness just after a failed relationship. Either that, or to make it seem as if what we had together was so god-awful, it’s closure freed me, bringing me back to a happiness before you.
I’m supposed to go to the night clubs and pretend to enjoy dancing with strange women, as they grind themselves against me, one after another. Continue Reading
The mornings are fine, but it’s the nights that are difficult to deal with. You not being on the other side of the bed, as I lay here, alone, convincing myself that the heavy knitted blanket is your arm resting over me as we sleep peacefully through the tranquil night.
Sometimes I stop what I’m doing to think of what you could be doing at that very moment. I wonder if you think about me as much as I do you. I honestly don’t think I can go a day without doing so. I wonder if you miss me more than I do you. I’m not even sure if you have those feelings for me anymore.
Sure, I can repeatedly tell myself the relationship between her and I is very much over, yet it does not seem to fully register in my brain. My mind refuses to believe it, and also believes that there is still a chance to make things right.
I face facts like I do myself in the mirror. We were both to blame for the things that happened. We both have our own personal issues, and I’m facing mine now. I don’t know if there is a future for us, or maybe you’ll continue to hold onto the man trapped in your black box.
I don’t want anything, really. I just want you to know that I miss you, no matter what your feelings are toward me.