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Wait
Back up a second
Was that love or merely a glimmer oh what could’ve been?
The latter?
I though so.
I’ve never been ‘in love’ – I’ve though I have – many times. Come to think of it every girl I’ve ever been with I have though for a moment, no matter how brief, that she could be the one. In the moments after sex when you lie in bed, holding each others naked bodies, reflecting on the intense love you’ve both shared – that’s the moment that it hits me. “She’s the one” the voices in my head screech “Don’t let her go!”
Somehow, though, I always do let them go. I say the wrong thing and offend them and watch as they slam the door in my face or tell them I love them after I’ve known them a week and wait for the call they promised but never will make. I sometimes get an urge to buy those books that promise losers in love like myself a guaranteed relationship. I have relationships, though – it’s just that they don’t last.
The longest I’ve ever clung onto a girl was three months. Three lousy months! That’s about all I am worth of anyone’s time I reckon. I don’t know but I assume I get boring quickly. I like routine – is that such a crime? I’ve taken to talking to people in the Internet – other people as desperate as me, they seem keen and eager – but the sad truth is I will never actually meet any of them. I got close to meeting a girl I met online once, I waited at a train station for three hours for her only to get a text message saying “sorry – I wont be there”. I never heard from her again.
She actually changed her phone number and email address just to avoid having to talk to me again. Chip, chip, chip – my self confidence is ebbed away bit by bit. It hurt me badly – not on the outside, that I could deal with – but on the inside. No amount of anti-septic cream and plasters can heal mental scars. There’s no cure for people like me. People who wake up every morning thinking “I am worthless”
I took to cutting myself for a while – some idea I had about expressing the pain I had internally, externally. It didn’t last long, it was a fad. It got me some attention though – I think I secretly craved attention at that point. I met a girl called Debbie, she told me she worked part time as a Samaritan and could help me. She did – she got me to stop cutting myself which I suppose was a good thing – we became friends. I needed a friend then, I had become something of a recluse, only leaving the house to do things I HAD to do.
She got me socialising again, we went to bars and restaurants and sometimes just hung out at each others houses – it was fun. For a while. After a month or so, when we were both a bit drunk, I put my arms around her and began kissing her deeply. She retorted by pushing me away and screaming. I told her I loved her. She told me she was married. There was an old guy she lived with, I assumed it was her father – it was her husband. Filthy gold digging w***e.
So here I am again, back to my old wrist-slicing ways with a failed relationship and a broken heart under my wing. I’ve become a recluse yet again, I haven’t seen my so-called friends in about 2 months now. I’ve given up attending social occasions- though they still bother to invite me. I guess I’ve become a sociopath.
Now I know what it feels like to give up. Abandon all hope. Drifting towards a plane I don’t want to be. A state of mind that kills my every mood. Teetering on the brink of insanity, caught in a purgatory of mentality. Drifting towards a dark gate. An inscription that reads words so real to me.
“Abandon every hope, ye who enter here.”
Back up a second
Was that love or merely a glimmer oh what could’ve been?
The latter?
I though so.
I’ve never been ‘in love’ – I’ve though I have – many times. Come to think of it every girl I’ve ever been with I have though for a moment, no matter how brief, that she could be the one. In the moments after sex when you lie in bed, holding each others naked bodies, reflecting on the intense love you’ve both shared – that’s the moment that it hits me. “She’s the one” the voices in my head screech “Don’t let her go!”
Somehow, though, I always do let them go. I say the wrong thing and offend them and watch as they slam the door in my face or tell them I love them after I’ve known them a week and wait for the call they promised but never will make. I sometimes get an urge to buy those books that promise losers in love like myself a guaranteed relationship. I have relationships, though – it’s just that they don’t last.
The longest I’ve ever clung onto a girl was three months. Three lousy months! That’s about all I am worth of anyone’s time I reckon. I don’t know but I assume I get boring quickly. I like routine – is that such a crime? I’ve taken to talking to people in the Internet – other people as desperate as me, they seem keen and eager – but the sad truth is I will never actually meet any of them. I got close to meeting a girl I met online once, I waited at a train station for three hours for her only to get a text message saying “sorry – I wont be there”. I never heard from her again.
She actually changed her phone number and email address just to avoid having to talk to me again. Chip, chip, chip – my self confidence is ebbed away bit by bit. It hurt me badly – not on the outside, that I could deal with – but on the inside. No amount of anti-septic cream and plasters can heal mental scars. There’s no cure for people like me. People who wake up every morning thinking “I am worthless”
I took to cutting myself for a while – some idea I had about expressing the pain I had internally, externally. It didn’t last long, it was a fad. It got me some attention though – I think I secretly craved attention at that point. I met a girl called Debbie, she told me she worked part time as a Samaritan and could help me. She did – she got me to stop cutting myself which I suppose was a good thing – we became friends. I needed a friend then, I had become something of a recluse, only leaving the house to do things I HAD to do.
She got me socialising again, we went to bars and restaurants and sometimes just hung out at each others houses – it was fun. For a while. After a month or so, when we were both a bit drunk, I put my arms around her and began kissing her deeply. She retorted by pushing me away and screaming. I told her I loved her. She told me she was married. There was an old guy she lived with, I assumed it was her father – it was her husband. Filthy gold digging w***e.
So here I am again, back to my old wrist-slicing ways with a failed relationship and a broken heart under my wing. I’ve become a recluse yet again, I haven’t seen my so-called friends in about 2 months now. I’ve given up attending social occasions- though they still bother to invite me. I guess I’ve become a sociopath.
Now I know what it feels like to give up. Abandon all hope. Drifting towards a plane I don’t want to be. A state of mind that kills my every mood. Teetering on the brink of insanity, caught in a purgatory of mentality. Drifting towards a dark gate. An inscription that reads words so real to me.
“Abandon every hope, ye who enter here.”
Page:
Yes very good
Zingggggggg
Yes, when i tried to post Wh*re it wouldn’t let me. Still, you deserve to put it in your stories, it makes them that much sharper.
Thanks Dexy - I've tried to put as much of my own experience as I could in there as possible and just combined it with ficticious events. Odly SR let me post "wh*re" - I think I am beyond the filter... Yuss.
Paradox, you’ve probably being told this before – but your writing style is excellent. In this story particular it feels as if you’ve talked about it, as apposed to writing about it. Like an interview – but more emotional, and it works really well here.
Stories like this always grip my attention, once I’ve read one paragraph – I have to read them all. There are Some parts in this story that most people will be able to relate to – which makes this type of story appealing – and other parts in the story that people may have thought about at certain times, when they’ve got a lot bottled up inside. And then there’s that fantastic line that actually made me laugh - Filthy gold digging wh*re, classic. If I had any more hats left I’d take another one off and give it to you, but I’m afraid I’ve run out – because you’ve taken them all in the past.
Well done.
Stories like this always grip my attention, once I’ve read one paragraph – I have to read them all. There are Some parts in this story that most people will be able to relate to – which makes this type of story appealing – and other parts in the story that people may have thought about at certain times, when they’ve got a lot bottled up inside. And then there’s that fantastic line that actually made me laugh - Filthy gold digging wh*re, classic. If I had any more hats left I’d take another one off and give it to you, but I’m afraid I’ve run out – because you’ve taken them all in the past.
Well done.
Wait
Back up a second
Was that love or merely a glimmer oh what could’ve been?
The latter?
I though so.
I’ve never been ‘in love’ – I’ve though I have – many times. Come to think of it every girl I’ve ever been with I have though for a moment, no matter how brief, that she could be the one. In the moments after sex when you lie in bed, holding each others naked bodies, reflecting on the intense love you’ve both shared – that’s the moment that it hits me. “She’s the one” the voices in my head screech “Don’t let her go!”
Somehow, though, I always do let them go. I say the wrong thing and offend them and watch as they slam the door in my face or tell them I love them after I’ve known them a week and wait for the call they promised but never will make. I sometimes get an urge to buy those books that promise losers in love like myself a guaranteed relationship. I have relationships, though – it’s just that they don’t last.
The longest I’ve ever clung onto a girl was three months. Three lousy months! That’s about all I am worth of anyone’s time I reckon. I don’t know but I assume I get boring quickly. I like routine – is that such a crime? I’ve taken to talking to people in the Internet – other people as desperate as me, they seem keen and eager – but the sad truth is I will never actually meet any of them. I got close to meeting a girl I met online once, I waited at a train station for three hours for her only to get a text message saying “sorry – I wont be there”. I never heard from her again.
She actually changed her phone number and email address just to avoid having to talk to me again. Chip, chip, chip – my self confidence is ebbed away bit by bit. It hurt me badly – not on the outside, that I could deal with – but on the inside. No amount of anti-septic cream and plasters can heal mental scars. There’s no cure for people like me. People who wake up every morning thinking “I am worthless”
I took to cutting myself for a while – some idea I had about expressing the pain I had internally, externally. It didn’t last long, it was a fad. It got me some attention though – I think I secretly craved attention at that point. I met a girl called Debbie, she told me she worked part time as a Samaritan and could help me. She did – she got me to stop cutting myself which I suppose was a good thing – we became friends. I needed a friend then, I had become something of a recluse, only leaving the house to do things I HAD to do.
She got me socialising again, we went to bars and restaurants and sometimes just hung out at each others houses – it was fun. For a while. After a month or so, when we were both a bit drunk, I put my arms around her and began kissing her deeply. She retorted by pushing me away and screaming. I told her I loved her. She told me she was married. There was an old guy she lived with, I assumed it was her father – it was her husband. Filthy gold digging w***e.
So here I am again, back to my old wrist-slicing ways with a failed relationship and a broken heart under my wing. I’ve become a recluse yet again, I haven’t seen my so-called friends in about 2 months now. I’ve given up attending social occasions- though they still bother to invite me. I guess I’ve become a sociopath.
Now I know what it feels like to give up. Abandon all hope. Drifting towards a plane I don’t want to be. A state of mind that kills my every mood. Teetering on the brink of insanity, caught in a purgatory of mentality. Drifting towards a dark gate. An inscription that reads words so real to me.
“Abandon every hope, ye who enter here.”
Back up a second
Was that love or merely a glimmer oh what could’ve been?
The latter?
I though so.
I’ve never been ‘in love’ – I’ve though I have – many times. Come to think of it every girl I’ve ever been with I have though for a moment, no matter how brief, that she could be the one. In the moments after sex when you lie in bed, holding each others naked bodies, reflecting on the intense love you’ve both shared – that’s the moment that it hits me. “She’s the one” the voices in my head screech “Don’t let her go!”
Somehow, though, I always do let them go. I say the wrong thing and offend them and watch as they slam the door in my face or tell them I love them after I’ve known them a week and wait for the call they promised but never will make. I sometimes get an urge to buy those books that promise losers in love like myself a guaranteed relationship. I have relationships, though – it’s just that they don’t last.
The longest I’ve ever clung onto a girl was three months. Three lousy months! That’s about all I am worth of anyone’s time I reckon. I don’t know but I assume I get boring quickly. I like routine – is that such a crime? I’ve taken to talking to people in the Internet – other people as desperate as me, they seem keen and eager – but the sad truth is I will never actually meet any of them. I got close to meeting a girl I met online once, I waited at a train station for three hours for her only to get a text message saying “sorry – I wont be there”. I never heard from her again.
She actually changed her phone number and email address just to avoid having to talk to me again. Chip, chip, chip – my self confidence is ebbed away bit by bit. It hurt me badly – not on the outside, that I could deal with – but on the inside. No amount of anti-septic cream and plasters can heal mental scars. There’s no cure for people like me. People who wake up every morning thinking “I am worthless”
I took to cutting myself for a while – some idea I had about expressing the pain I had internally, externally. It didn’t last long, it was a fad. It got me some attention though – I think I secretly craved attention at that point. I met a girl called Debbie, she told me she worked part time as a Samaritan and could help me. She did – she got me to stop cutting myself which I suppose was a good thing – we became friends. I needed a friend then, I had become something of a recluse, only leaving the house to do things I HAD to do.
She got me socialising again, we went to bars and restaurants and sometimes just hung out at each others houses – it was fun. For a while. After a month or so, when we were both a bit drunk, I put my arms around her and began kissing her deeply. She retorted by pushing me away and screaming. I told her I loved her. She told me she was married. There was an old guy she lived with, I assumed it was her father – it was her husband. Filthy gold digging w***e.
So here I am again, back to my old wrist-slicing ways with a failed relationship and a broken heart under my wing. I’ve become a recluse yet again, I haven’t seen my so-called friends in about 2 months now. I’ve given up attending social occasions- though they still bother to invite me. I guess I’ve become a sociopath.
Now I know what it feels like to give up. Abandon all hope. Drifting towards a plane I don’t want to be. A state of mind that kills my every mood. Teetering on the brink of insanity, caught in a purgatory of mentality. Drifting towards a dark gate. An inscription that reads words so real to me.
“Abandon every hope, ye who enter here.”
Page: