You loved me so fiercely that I burned; Our love a living sentiment of mutual passion, seemingly everlasting in the midst of it all.
It all happened so quickly; you swept me off my feet and into the loving arms of your sweet embrace faster than I expected.
We fell deeply, completely inexperienced, yet drawn into the unexplored grounds of love.
Just as soon as it began it ended, our fire extinguished once we realized it was more than we could take. We weren’t ready, especially not you. Your love weakened quickly while mine only grew, leaving me wounded with your temporary passion.
It was forced, despite how natural it felt. Despite how well we fit together. We eroded each other over time, both of us left small and helpless.
You loved me so fiercely that I burned; now, you’ll only be left with ashes.
His rings, suited around sizable fingers, sliced through the tender skin of my cheek, the warm blood trickling down the side of my face as I stood frozen in place, in utter shock at what had just happened. He slapped me.
He was just as soon trying to console me, keep me quiet, keep me with him. His salty palm pressed against my cheek, stinging the wounds as tears brimmed my eyes.
“I love you. You know I do,” he whispers, not trusting his own voice. It would be so easy for me to stay, to submit to his toxicity, to let myself be consumed by his possessive “love”.
But I can’t. I won’t allow myself to fall back into this harmful cycle of hatred, manipulation, and that claustrophobic feeling. Like I’m stuck. Like I’m drowning, all hopes of returning to the surface gone with the crashing waves.
That night I left, doubts and insecurities ringing in my head. I packed my bag and left, despite how desperately I wanted to look back, to find my way back into his arms. I left, not giving those thoughts a second longer to fester.
I left, and though I’m glad I did, I can’t help but wonder what could’ve been if I hadn’t.
“Today you will find yourself getting backstabbed by someone you’d never expect.” Fiete looks up from his morning newspaper. Ever since he’d learned to read, he followed his horoscope closely, placing nearly his entire fate into the hands of the local newspaper.
The one constant in his daily horoscope is that no matter what it may be, it always ends up happening in a different manner than he’d imagined. No matter how many he read, he could never guess what might happen that day.
Today, however, he was sure this would be simple; all he needed to do, after all, was stay by himself today. His house would be out of the question as he lives with two roommates, along with upstairs and downstairs neighbors.
The only place he knows will be completely void today was the Colombia River Gorge, it was a tourist attraction for years until the tragic death of a child pushed over the edge, it scared off just about everyone, except for Fiete, that is. He adapted it as a place to go out and think when things got to be too much, when he needed a break.
Fiete was always a sort of extreme person. He would follow through with something with no regard for any sort of consequences. He believed that what was meant to be was meant to be, and there was no stopping that.
As he approached the edge of the canyon, he saw a man standing there, one foot dangling off the edge of the steep cliff. The entire drive there, Fiete found himself paranoid and sweating bullets, avoiding any kind of contact with anyone. He’d gotten this far, and wasn’t about to give this man any sort of leverage.
Without hesitation, he pushed the man off the cliff, his screams reverberating off the walls as he plummeted into the rushing water below. Fiete almost wanted to feel bad for him, looking down as the man completely submerged beneath the surface of the water, but he isn’t given a second more to feel any sort of remorse as someone else pushed him from behind.
He tried to scream, but nothing came out as he pinwheeled in midair, catching a glimpse of the person that pushed him. It quite literally was him, one foot dangling off of the cliff as he looked down regretfully. As Fiete penetrates the surface of the water, he faintly hears the screams of the man above as he comes tumbling down the jagged rocks.
The world seemed to stop in the moment the bullet penetrated my chest. It felt like everything moved a little slower. It was comforting. The blood oozed from the fresh wound, dribbling down onto the grass as people watched on in horror. It wasn’t meant to end like this, but now that it has, I can’t say I object.
It was all an accident. A misunderstanding, a child given a gun and told it was a toy. I don’t even think the kid was aiming at me, but it all happened so fast it’s hard to determine.
I didn’t even notice the bullet until I felt myself falling backwards in slow motion, my head landing first on the cool grass. After a while, I struggled to keep my eyes open as my breathing grew heavier.
When help finally arrived, the world was finally silent, and in my last dying breath, a faint smile spread across my pale face.
I was never really suicidal, I loved living my life to the absolute fullest, but in that moment, I felt nothing but pure ataraxy. I felt no fear, no sadness, I just felt free. It was the only solution to the elutheromania that had been hovering above me unnoticeably for all this time, and it was more liberating than you would ever know.
Even down to the physical senses. The wind blew loudly in my ears, drowning out the cries of the people that watched me fall. The grass was soft and moist beneath my hands, and the sky, it seemed to peer down onto me sadly, but the light that the sun provided felt wonderful against my skin.
In hindsight, the situation was depressing, unjust, and just all around horrible, but experiencing it first hand would probably have to be the best thing to ever happen to me, and that scares me, even in death.
