What do you think about self destruction, she looked into my eyes after taking a swig from the whiskey bottle she held. The stars shone bright in the sky like little jerks watching a show the mortals put on for them everyday, laughing at our insignificance.
Self destruction? I replied. I live for it. Chipping away parts of me as a tribute to the ones I love, waiting to see how less I can survive with. Every time it hurts and I think this is it, I can't possibly go any further but some time later, I find myself surviving again and I know it is time to give away more.
Don't you find it useless, she asked again, Don't you wish to have something in return?
What could they possibly offer me, I answered taking a swig myself feeling the whiskey burning away some of my pain but never completely. It no longer completely turned it off. The ache was always there.
I dunno, she said wonderingly, people say love heals all wounds. I snorted as I answered, people are assholes. They know nothing of love. And you do, she countered looking at me with a raised eyebrow.
I do, I replied. The only thing that ever healed me was her. When I held her hand, everything made sense. When I could hear her heart beat, I knew that somewhere I was alive too. She was the only drug I ever got addicted to. When I was with her, life seemed simple. Anything that made her smile was good. Anything that didn't was bad.
Since the day she went away, I do not go to any high places. Not because I am afraid of falling. But because I do not trust myself enough to not jump. Yesterday, I sprinted back to my house just for the heck of it even though I hadn't had a run in ages. I puked immediately after I arrived but for those few moments, just a few, I could feel myself burning, my lungs giving out and I felt more alive than I ever had.
People offer help as if they can understand. Forget her, they say. Look at all the ones after you. The sea if full of fish apparently. Not mine, I say. Mine is completely barren. Broken hearts never killed anyone, they say. I know I am alive but if I don't feel like I am, does it still count as being alive?
She was silent for a minute and then asked hesitantly, Why don't you go to her then if you love her so much?
Because she doesn't love me anymore, I reply as I black out on the roof under the stars hoping somewhere in the world she was looking at them too.