May 10, 2017
By nick_heister BRONZE, Grandmound, Iowa
nick_heister BRONZE, Grandmound, Iowa
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

She just walks away, leaving me to my own destruction. It’s hard not to crumble and shatter like glass stuck with bat, to break under all the stress on its own as it falls on me, ramming at full speed into my mentality. But when she seems to have no interest in some of the things I wish I could tell her, to try and vent some of the problems that go on throughout my mind. Her expression is that of discontent, like the world’s best poker face, as though she is tired of all that I try to bring around to her attention. What was once a beautiful face to gaze upon and get lost in thought thinking to myself how did I get so lucky, is now nothing but anxiety, depression, and fearing she will leave just thinking that I am just an inconvenience to her. She used to smile and hold conversations, thinking of what movie to see or what would happen if, using all of the creative, cute, and quirky things in her brain. So seeing her sit in place, sucked into her phone, oblivious to what is wrong and pushing off whether to ask if I’m ok makes me think as though it’s all my fault, feeling too many emotions at once, feeling anger, depression, worry, doubt, and self pity to a point that I just shut down, breaking right down to the core, twitching as though my emotional guard is shedding, causing me to  operate solely on basic instinct of walking back and forth between class, running from the pain in some way that seems like a subconscious routine. Trying to just get from point A to B, trying to weld, draw, and headband my way into some sort of temporary fix only to see it’s worse when she ignores me more, as though I drag her down like an anchor, just pulling her down until she becomes stagnant. I just wish that I could have changed how it went, for it was almost as if nature had taken hold, making everything flourish from the beginning as though it were spring, yet as the changing of the seasons went from the bright, warm, sweet smell of love, had only ended in a cold, chilling, and numbing death of a relationship.

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