John Left

“By far the hardest thing to swallow, and I say this in the dearest manner, was that of your emotion for me. What is it that you believe I am, besides nonchalant and enchanting? I can not stand to be in this position Jonathan, and you, you alone have put me here. Again and again I see myself being flattened by your ego, or your pride, or whatever it is you value this week. Aside from killing whatever humanity that has not yet left me, you strain the very fabric of my decaying time left here in this life. The mere fact that you are here right now, standing before me, looking innocently bewildered is beyond that of the sickeningly disheartening. And now you maintain your gaze and fretfully plea with those oversized chestnut eyes that I used to find so breathtaking. Do you know what I see now John? Do you have any clue what bores unblinkingly at me right now? Emptiness. A chasm. For what you fail to see, what you refuse to acknowledge, is that you have destroyed it all. What stayed has gone and what remains is nothing more than a subtle yearning for the pain to die. But even that feigns in comparison to the overwhelming urge to forget myself, to make it all stop, even if only momentarily. And you know why. And so do I Jonathon. And that, my love, is why you have to leave, and right now.”

And with that he turned to leave. Behind him sat a life that he would never again see, a life that he himself had once dubbed “perfect.” He tried his hardest not to shed his tears, but the irony had been far too consuming. The very life he had set out to ensure had crumbled at his actions. His former love had been right, how sickeningly disheartening it all seemed to forever be.

A guy