Swings

By
“I’d die without you. You know that,”
The words sounded as feeble and weak as I felt. The scorn and anger emanating from him was nearly tangible and the air crackled with tension. If you listened closely, I was certain you’d hear my heart break right down the center.

“Why does it have to be this way?” I felt pathetic and hated it. However, it seemed that pathetic was the only thing to be in this situation. I’d tried every other emotion in the book, weighing the pain carefully, measuring the amount of tears wept. Each feeling leaked the same amount of agony to my heart.

Beneath me, the moisture from last night’s storm soaked into my jeans. The plastic swing creaked as I pushed myself backwards and forwards. Closer to him, further away. Closer, further. He simply stood, stoically, before me, his jaw set grimly. His eyes, clouded with thought, were elsewhere. Over my shoulder and into the woods, perhaps. I wanted to yank the mirrored sunglasses he loved to hide behind off of his face and stomp them to pieces.

“All you ever did was treat me like crap anyways,” He murmured, and I realized that he was staring at a group of children climbing on the roots of the trees somewhere off to my left. Their loud, happy laughter seemed out of place as I sat and swung silently, trapped in my own personal hell.

More than anything, I wanted to get up and walk away. With my head held high and my gaze straight forward. But I didn’t think my legs could hold my weight. So I simply sat and swung gently. Closer. Further.

“So either I lose you completely, or I pretend nothing’s wrong and walk back into your arms,” My voice was surprisingly calm, despite the fact that my hands gripped the chains on the swing to hide their shaking. I knew that their impression would remain on my palms once I finally let go. But they would eventually fade.

“Either you want to be with me, or you don’t,” His words were tight and clipped, as if he feared his voice would crack and ruin him image.

“You know it’s not that simple,” I protested quietly. Closer, further. This time it seemed I swung further backwards than forwards.





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