SAD!
I was challenged by a friend to add some rap or hip-hop to my posts. I listened to a bunch of songs on his best of 2018 list and I really liked this one. I later found out that XXXTENTACION (X) was shot and killed last year at 20 years old. That is so tragic. He was very talented. My heart goes out to his family and fans.
I saw her. She was sitting at the table having coffee. Her short, pretty curls bounced around her head. Her back was turned to me and I saw her bare neck. It reminded me of all of the times that I kissed her there and she would giggle. That used to really turn me on. I wanted to go to her. Her light could draw me in like a moth, but she had some guy with her. He didn't seem that special, but she was laughing and looking at him the way she used to look at me.
I turned and left. I walked up the stairs to my shitty apartment. I didn't really see the apartment because I kept seeing her face. I remember the day that she told me that we had to talk. She had pity in her dark eyes. I didn't need her pity, I needed her. I lived for her. I would make her breakfast every morning and we would spoon in bed and talk about our life plans. I needed her more than I needed anything. When she would go off to work I'd write her songs and I'd think about what else I could do to make her happy.
She didn't appreciate me. She took everything that I had and it wasn't enough for her. She ran around on me. She said that she was working late and I went to her office, but she wasn't there. I could track her location on my phone and I tried to find her. I saw her car parked in the area where the phone said she was. I sat on her car and waited for her. I sat there all night. Finally, she came stumbling towards the car smelling like sex. I wanted to scream at her, but I took her in my arms and held her and we drove home.
My place was empty now. I tried Tinder and I had a couple hook-ups, but I didn't love them. They were nothing and she was everything. People are not interchangeable. I tried to tell her that, but she didn't listen. She just told me that she needed space. She told me that she didn't love me.
I sat at my kitchen table with a bottle of Jack and the gun. Those were my friends now. I sat with them every night. They were consistent and they were all mine. Why would I want to stay here if she wasn't coming back? Since she left, I felt nothing but emptiness. Sometimes I'd black out and wake up leaned over the table with my eyes and mouth so dry that I'd start gagging. I was tired of this shit. I picked up the gun. The metal felt cold and the gun felt heavy in my hand. I hadn't shot anything for a long time. Better not miss, or end up a vegetable. I thought about her soft lips whispering "I love you" one last time..........
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