6 posts tagged “him”

They were two wounded soldiers, fighting a pointless war, out of bullets. Two soldiers talking about nothing at all; unable to ask the other which side he was fighting on, perhaps because they didn’t want to know... or perhaps because it just didn’t matter anymore.

He looked up at her as she pulled out a cigarette from the half empty pack. Half empty. He guessed that made him a pessimist. She closed her eyes as she lit it. He noticed that. That, and the fact that her hair fell about her face in an almost apologetic way while she was lighting it. He said almost because she was too proud to ever be able to look apologetic. Angry? Easily. Annoyed? Definitely. Disappointed? Yes. Sad? Sometimes…. But apologetic? It just wasn’t possible.

She took a long drag and opened her eyes. Kohl filled dark eyes that always seemed like they meant to say something more but didn’t know how to. Or at least that’s how she imagined them to look. A conversation from a lifetime ago floated through her head along with the strains from the music at the bar.

“You have creepy eyes.”

“Creepy? Thanks! What the hell is that supposed to mean anyway?”

“Err… I didn’t mean it like that… It’s just… well, they’re too blank. I can never tell what you’re feeling”

Water.

Cold water.

She always thought that her eyes were what betrayed her. Years of practice had taught her how to hold that mask in place. Blank and smooth, like nothingness itself. It was the best weapon disguised as a perfect shield. In reality, it couldn’t stop anything. Definitely not pain. But it was proud. And it made the opponent determined to break you. And so, the words got crueller and the blows harder, but as long as you didn’t flinch, you won. It wasn’t exactly a fun game, but it captivated her.

Her eyes were always what gave her away. She could hold back any emotion, but her eyes reflected what she felt. Even the slightest hurt would make them widen, kind words would make them quiver and sometimes they would soften. Luckily, most people couldn’t read her eyes… but she still felt betrayed… and a little reassured. She did not like losing control… but she liked knowing something about her was still natural. Still… human.

And he had said her eyes were blank…

She looked at the man across the table. She couldn’t exactly place the look he had on his face, which bothered her. She was good at reading people. Really good… but when it came to him, it frustrated her to no end that she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. She sighed and took another drag from her burning cigarette, watching as he lit one of his own.

He wondered what he should say now. She looked like she was waiting for him to say or do something. It was like playing a game of poker and suddenly realizing it was your turn… except the difference was he really had no idea what game he was supposed to be playing right now, and that just made things a lot harder.

He asked her what she wanted to drink and they both ordered their shots. Brandy for him because his throat still hurt. She asked for a Whiskey. Straight. And he couldn’t help nor explain the smile that flitted across his face.

She looked down into her drink with the saddest eyes he had ever seen on anyone. When he called her name, she looked up at him and smiled. And the question he had been planning to ask seemed pointless. Of course she was okay. Didn’t she look like she was okay? A perfect defence he didn’t know how to cross. And so, he let it be, shaking his head as she looked up at him curiously.

She smiled at him, and the confused look on his face made her giggle, which confused him even further, but he laughed anyway. She didn’t laugh like this very much. And it made him oddly happy to know that he was the reason. He didn’t know why and he continued to bug her about inconsequentialities. She didn’t mind. He knew that. He could tell. Even if her eyes were hollow, they seemed to shine when she argued with him, and he liked that.

She asked him a question. He started telling her about the answer. And both of them skirted past the things they really wanted to talk about. Needed to talk about. Why did he keep disappearing? Why did she never ask him where he’d been?

They couldn’t be on opposite sides, he thought. She was too much like him. And yet, with her blank eyes and distant smile, he couldn’t even tell if she was fighting the same war… and he didn’t know how to ask. But he really didn’t think it mattered very much. At least, he thought as she laughed again and pretended to throw the glass at him as her eyes shone, not anymore…

He walks straight to his room,
head slightly bowed.
Eyes on the floor.
No one is home.
But just in case...

Locking the door behind him
he sits on the floor
and sighs

Looking down at his white school uniform
he decides
changing would be a good idea
He learned a long time ago
Blood on his clothes freaked his mother out
Even his father
when he himself wasn't the reason.

She walks into the house cautiously
announces her arrival
Is puzzled when no one replies
Then remembers they went out to see a movie
Sighs
Telling them about her grades could wait
Die another day starts playing in her head and she bangs her head against the wall to drive it out.
Stupid pop culture addict neighbors!

She gets grounded for a week
It doesn't really bother hes
Her friends were getting annoying anyway
Lying on the floor on her back
she watches shadows dancing on the ceiling
and smiles
This was meant to be punishment?

You lie
I have no right to the truth
I lie
and you have no right to the truth
You yell
and I yell back
I yell
and you yell back
and then we laugh
You cry
and I tell you its going to be ok
I cry
and you tell me everything will be fine

You lie
and I stab you with words
I lie
and you don't know
You yell
and I yell back
I yell
and then shut down
You don't cry
...
I don't cry
...

She didn't know why she had to torture herself so.
'Torture' she mused, a faint smile tugging at her lips. How dramatic. But it would be the apt word. What else could you call it?
It was like watchin the cooking special on TV the night you were dying of hunger and it was too late to buy anything to eat... or like reading your ex-boyfriend's letters, or even worse, reading your own diary's account of the most painful day of your life.
Yep, she thought, combing her rain-drenched hair. Torture was the perfect word...

She wondered if he had noticed though.
She frowned slightly, hoping that was not the case. It would be terrible if he had...
After all the work she had put into this facade, it would kill her knowing one tiny gesture of comfort made it all crash to the ground...
But he had been so upset...
She shook her head, and glared at herself in the mirror.
It was all for good.
Hers and his.
She was just glad she pulled her hand away before it rested on his shoulder...
Jus glad that she pulled it away before he raised his bowed head...
Just relieved that when he looked up at her, the pain had not made the hate vanish, just dimmed it for a while...
So relieved...
and so...

Thunder sounded in the distance, shaking her out of her reverie...
She smiled at her dismal reflection and ran the brush through her hair again.
Torture....

She poured out another shot and downed it. After an entire week of agonizing, she had made up her mind. She was going to go talk to him tonight, no matter what. She slipped out of the dim bar determinedly. She even had the entire conversation planned out in her head. What she would say in response to every thing he could say. She had even decided where they would talk and how she would bring about the topic. She was sick of the thoughts rattling in her head. And tired of trying to guess what he was thinking.

He stood outside on the balcony, a half forgotten cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. It was a nice night. He looked back into the house and saw the file lying on the table. An odd expression flitted across his face, and then he smiled, taking a deep drag and exhaling slowly into the cold night air. It was going to be a long night.

So, after a couple of shots of vodka, for the strength, she made her way across the busy streets towards his house. It was a pretty night. The city lights drowned out most of the stars, but the ones that she could still see were beautiful enough. She was wearing her black dress. The one she was wearing the first time they had met. She wondered if he would notice, or remember... She didn't think so... She didn't know if she wanted him to... It would be less painful if he had forgotten. She didn't know why but she wanted to see him in it, considering it was the last time she was going to see him, at least for a while.

He made his way into the house and sat down in the dimly lit room. He glanced up at the file and muttered to himself. A short laugh followed by a frown. He looked away from the table and his gaze fell upon the small box lying under a chair. Standing up, he made his way towards it, a strange look upon his face. Kneeling by the chair, he pulled out the box with slightly trembling hands. It fit in his palm, and he stared at it for a long while.

It wasn't like she wanted him back, she reminded herself. It was just that this needed to be over, and the only way she could do that was talk to him, get it out of her system. She wasn't going to cry. No matter what, she was not going to cry. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she made her way to the sidewalk where she sat down at the edge of the road, resting her head against a cool metal pole. She knew she shouldn't be drinking. Not tonight. She pulled out a cigarette and a matchbox. Unable to light it because of the way her hands were shaking, she rummaged around in her bag until she found the lighter. Click. Light. Drag. Something fluttered to the ground, and as she picked up the faded photograph, a tear finally found its way down her pale face.

It seemed like he hadn't moved for hours. He knew he shouldn't open the box. God knows he wanted to, but he couldn't. Not now. It would surely destroy him. Turning it around he traced the crack along the side of it with his thumb. He closed his eyes as if something had just stabbed him in the heart. Why tonight? Why did he have to find it tonight?? Pictures ran through his mind and his eyes shot open. No. He couldn't close his eyes right now. It made him remember. He didn't want to. Not now.

She looked up at the house. The address seemed right, though it looked as if no one was home. She walked up to the door... and suddenly, it all seemed too pointless. What was the use? She was kidding herself if she thought one conversation would actually help her. But this wasn't about her. She owed him an apology... No... She owed him an explanation. She stared at the door bell for a while, and shook her head. A rain drop fell from the skies and she turned to leave...

He stared at the box for what seemed like eternity. The cool wind told him it was about to rain. Rain. He hated the rain. He hated it because it reminded him of strawberries and long sad conversations... and because it reminded him of the last time he had seen her. Had she been crying? It was impossible to tell because of that rain... Standing up suddenly, he made his way unsteadily to the phone. Holding the receiver up to his ear, he dialed the all-to-familiar number. It had been so long, yet every digit was engraved in his memory.

She walked away quickly from the house, suddenly afraid of running into him. Her flight out of the country was in a few hours. A few more hours and she would never see him again. No, that moment passed by the last time it rained. As the water started falling faster from the skies, she looked up and smiled, glad it was raining. But, it didn't really matter anymore... This time there was no one around to hide the tears from. Making her way onto the porch of an empty house, she leaned against the pillar and slid to the ground. There was no point. None.

 An image of her in her long black dress made its way into his mind and he hung up before it connected. What could he say? There was nothing he could offer as way of explanation. The truth would only hurt more than the silence did. She couldn't know. He couldn't let her find out. The file on the table seemed to mock him. Leaning against the wall, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. There was no point. It was over.

And so the door was never opened, and the phone never answered. Simply because she never knocked... and he never called. And the faded photograph continued to fade away in a corner of the bag while the broken box continued to stay broken. And the rain continued to fall on two people halfway across the world from one another... and even though it shouldn't have mattered because there was no point... it continued to matter.

He's mad at me again. We keep running in the same predictable little circles, never getting anywhere. It scares me. The whole situation. So much so, that every bone in my body is screaming at me to turn and run. As fast as possible and as far as possible. yet for some strange twisted inconceivable reason, I just don't. As I was walkin behind him today, wanting to explain, to try and make sense of this whole mess, I kept trying to say something, but the words just wouldn't come. They got twisted and lost inside. No, in fact, they simply disappeared. Burned up so completely that I didn't even have any ashes to show for my thoughts.

And I would have followed. But then what? I don't know what the point of all this is. I really really honestly don't understand. We're just causing each other and ourselves so much pain. But I can't leave. I'm tired of not understanding. I just want someone to explain to me what in the world is going on.

Sometimes, I want to pick up a rock and hit him on the head, really hard! Or just shake him till his teeth rattle. I want him to tell me what it is thats bothering him. I hate him being mad at me. And he's always mad at me. I thought I'd just avoid him coz I thought that it was the right thing to do. I thought he'd be better off if I was just gone... but weirdly enough, its like being bound. He has to tell me I have to leave, and only then will I be able to. I don't want to, but if it makes everything ok, I will...

I just don't know what to do. I don't know what'll make everything better... I don't know if anything ever will...

But last night, I was sitting there, with those shards of glass spread out before me. It was almost 5 in the morning, and then he messaged saying he had jus woken up for some strange reason... and I was so scared. I don't understand this.

I'm tired of being glass. And I'm tired of shattering...