Thursday, July 11, 2013

The condition (the dying process)

And then there was nothing. After I had chosen my words rashly, there was nothing left. I cried the night through without Stephen. It was as any other weekday night that I had endured without him...except this night, he was supposed to be here.  I imaged Stephen roaming some dark street somewhere with his cigar dwindling in his hand. His mind must have been a mess with things; things such as why the world was always at its own throat and why its self destruction was ignored by mindless pleasure seekers. I knew he thought about this because night after night, we thought it together. The words that I shouted at him were killing me now. I could not believe that I had commanded him to go away. In my own mind, I thought I had good reasons but it was driving me insane to be away from him. My love did not stop here...it had a section of its own, a part of my brain it inhabited and governed with no remorse for my logic. And my logic waged war as well...telling me that Stephen did not care at all and that I was just there for his entertainment. Maybe I was and maybe I had kid myself all along that he was different, that he stood out from the crowd. Maybe he was just like the others...just a different flavor.

So, I knew he could read my thoughts and that he had come to me before as simply as my thoughts wavered to him. Many times, he had stood outside my window smiling and motioning for me to let him inside. I would run to the door, swing wide tis opening and run outside to greet my lover. He was always warm whether it was summer or winter, rainging or snowing..he was comforting. I found myself feeling the most hollow pain in my chest as the hours passed by and he never came. Then I realized that he had taken my words as the gospel. I told him that I wanted him to go and so he did. When he did not come for me, I walked outside and up the ladder on the side of my little apartment. When I reached the roof, I sat down upon the ledge.

"Hey"

I turned to the voice that had become so familiar over the past months. It was such a voice that my body responded at the tone. I found comfort here and a strange home within his words. I could not explain why he comforted me so but it was something amazing and intriguing. "Stephen, you came."
The man came to stand beside me and then flicked his cigar out and into the street below. I could smell his cologne and it made me feel warm and soft inside....almost pliable. "I wasn't going to come but I could feel you tugging at my mind. I thought that you might seriously need me for something and so I came."

looking up, I motioned for him to join me. He accepted and plopped down upon the ledge right beside me. His hair was a mess and he just couldnt keep his hands out of the mess. I chuckled lightly at the sight of his unkempt head. "I like your hair."

"Ha ha, very funny...I just don't give a shit anymore, Cynthia"

I looked back down at the street and the lights of the city in the distance. "Stephen, I don't like fighting with you. I know you have your ideas and I have mine. Basically, I miss you and I don't want to go for so long without seeing your face. I don't want to see memories of you only....I want to see you before me and I want to reach out and touch you. Even if I can only briefly touch you for a moment, I want this to be sane."

Stephen's blue eyes met mine as we both looked at each other. I saw their depth and many things which hovered there that were unexplainable. I saw my reflection and it was sad. Nothing could tame the beast within Stephen nor coudl it tame the beast within myself. We seemed to be at a stand still and it done no good for my heart. I wanted to weep in his arms and have him to understand me.
"I do understand you, Cynthia. I am just not capable of giving you what you want. I have already lived this sort of life once before and I cannot repeat this poison thing. I am not saying that you are bad or you are not good enough. I am saying that this is just something that is not possible for me to grant to you."

I felt no comfort in his words at all. I felt the lonliness bubble up and sit their congealing in its own ugliness. "Stephen, I don't know what to say. Can we just be friends tonight as before...before it all got so complicated? If you cannot truly love me as your mate, then can you truly love me as....as...me?"

I think Stephen was as confused as I and he rose from his sitting position. He scrunched his face and then dropped it into his hand. "I have to go...I have to leave here."

"Why...what's wrong?"

Stephen looked at me and he looked frightened. "I cannot be a party to what you are thinking, it is ridiculous."

I knew he had seen the picture in my head and I was ashamed. But mostly, I was tired and just wanted to stop feeling.

"I am alone, Stephen. Everything I have done has been a failure. These are things that I never had the chance to tell you. I am strong and they call me angry. I am fun and they call me a whore. Whatever I try to be is what they use to label me incompetent or disgusting. I am so tired...so very fucking tired of it all. Yes, it is true that you take me with you but I want to go away forever and you leave me here alone. Sometimes, I just want to talk or I just want to be silly and free but then you do not come. Those times, I am left with my own devices and ....sometimes, only the ring of my doorbell or the knock at the door, keeps me from putting a gun to my head. I am serious, Stephen."

Stephen's eyes were desperately holding back his tears, they shimmered in the light of the street lamps. "I try to make you feel loved, Cynthia. But, I have a life of my own...my kid...my promises to him...I know you understand....and I am free..otherwise. I have enough responsibilities."

"I do..." I stood on the ledge and looked down at the parked car. I remembered things of the past and things of the present and my mind began to silently weigh living against dying.

Stephen grew angry. "You will not do things like that. I have heard so many things from others over and over again about how they are going to end it all. If you wanted to end your life, you wouldnt' have called to me. YOu would have just done the deed."

"Stephen..."

"yes, Cynthia"

" YOu are wrong...and.I am sorry" The gun was cool to my touch, it wasn't heavy and the trigger wasnt hard to pull... It was easier than my heartache.

Those were my last words and I heard his screaming. Then, in the waking world...the real world..I heard the loud bang and I remember the smell of the powder. And then..my soul was no longer in the waking world.

In one instant, my dreams came true. I didn't have to do that stuff anymore. I didnt have to wonder what was in store for me because I wasnt an issue. I thought wrong, he felt me. I was everywhere. I would swoop down in the air and rest just above Stephen. He would look right up into me and speak.

"Hello Cynthia."

His eyes would fill with tears and he would throw something...he would scream and tear paper from the walls. He is writing this too because he cannot see me. My thoughts roam around and he reads them. He sits and writes what I say to him because he says he wants to put it down so that he can touch the words...so that something of me is tangible. I am everywhere, all the time and forever. He reads the thoughts which flow through my mind. He writes the memories and other various things. He keeps part of me alive as he stuggles to maintain his sanity. This is what Stephen thinks because now, I can read his thoughts as well.

If I try hard enough, I can leave and go to some other far away place and give to him his space. I do this for him. But I return when he needs me.  I am free ...truly free...and when he calls to me...i am there.

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