When she told me she was leaving, I stood there, looking into her big, obnoxiously cute blue teary eye and I laughed. I literally laughed straight at her face. Maybe I thought the best way to handle the current stress in my position then was to laugh it out loud in hopes that it might not seem like I cared about her, hopefully making it easier for me to get through this, hopefully telling myself that I didn’t care. Or maybe I was just in bloody denial. Either way, she did leave, taking her freaking suitcase with her. I guess she was in a hurry to leave as the clothes were partially hanging out of the huge suitcase. Damn she must’ve hated me.
The winter breeze blew at my face, still with that big fat goofy-ass smile on my face. Yes, I looked like a complete fool. But what could I have done? I knew that there was nothing I could do to stop her. Things had been so obvious from the start – her lame excuses for coming back late, her non-stop outings and coming home with that ugly stench of booze (don get me wrong, I love drinking), her constant need to chat online with her so called ‘friend’. Fuck it. I just couldn’t take in the signs, I loved her. Way more then I even knew.
She got into the wretched car. I could see the silhouette of an ugly ass dude at the driver’s seat. She’s making the stupidest mistake of her god damned life. One day, she’ll come running back into my arms. I know it! Then I could just stuff my palms at her face, like literally, and ask her to buzz off. I’ll wrap my arms around my new found and definitely sexier partner and walk off, like how she just did. Oh, yeah. I could vision it already – a silky smooth brunette with a tight-ass body. I’ll show her. Then she’ll run to the top of the Eiffel tower and beg me to return. Oh, that would be bloody hilarious.
Of course, that would happen once summer falls during winter, and when I could finally sing a proper tune to an Aerosmith song. Till then, it all seems dim. Damn, life sucks. Why does God treat me this way? I’ve never cheated once, I bought her everything she liked, never once argued with her and most of all, pleased her in every possible way I could freakin’ think of. Nevertheless, she managed to stuff those two words into my face, pretending as if she cared. Yeah, right! “I’m sorry” my fucking ass.
She’d left by the time the door closed from the wind. Yes, I stood there for a very long time. If you actually saw me, I bet you’d be laughing your asses off. By this time, the denial was over. It was way too obvious – she’d left me. What am I going to do now? Who’s gonna cook me dinner? What the hell am I gonna tell my retarded friends?
“Monica just left me.”
“I TOLD YOU SHE WAS A BITCH..”
Yeah, thanks guys. That helps a lot. Bloody assholes..
This night just can-not get any better. Just earlier, my idiotic boss called me into her office. Sitting at her orange colored cotton seat, I could see her prized possession of eating way too many K.F.C spicy chicken wings oozing out of the side hand bars. It seemed as though her stomach were to explode and send the buttons from her blouse rocketing straight into my already fucked up face. Then the entire office would be filled with processed chicken wings while her head gets thrown to a corner as I grab the machete and slice her brains out of her head and hold it up to the ceiling as the rest of the co-workers applauded me. Let the fatty rain pour!
Instead, I just got a warning which I totally forgot about after I had left the office. What was it again? I think it was about a new chick arriving the next day. Wait, that isn’t a warning. Or was it? Oh what the heck, screw it. Life sucks.
Hoping that I would have a nice, loving woman to hug once I got home, I was thrown into this shitty situation instead. “I’m leaving. I’m sorry,” was the icing on top of the cake for me. Yes, I would love for you to leave me. Your apology for leaving me is all I needed. Go out with that ugly, retarded, slightly taller, maybe macho-er and definitely richer dude in the car. Thank you so much for saying ‘s.o.r.r.y”! Bitch..
Life seemed to be the worst ‘gift’ ever given to me at that very moment. I swear I could take my car out and slam into the very first woman that reminded me of her.
Sigh. Is this what I get for loving her that much? All I ever wanted was her love in return. Just a hug every time my overweight boss dragged me into her room, just a peck on my cheek whenever I’m feeling down, just a massage whenever life sucked. Was that too much to ask?
Feeling the exhaustion from smiling like a dick for that long, I went straight to bed, stopping by the closet beforehand. It was half empty. She did a really good job in clearing the closet for me I must say. Oh wait, is that her panty I see on the closet floor. Wow, I guess she wanted me to have something to remember her by after she’d left. Bloody hoar.
I reached out for my stash at the corner of my closet. It was an old Nike shoe box. I remember when I first had it. Monica surprised me with my favorite pair of genuine Nike shoes. It was the newest, special edition shoe with the golden stripes at the side. I must be the luckiest person alive. Or so I thought.
Removing the lid of the old dusty shoe box, I lay myself down on the bed and dropped the cover onto the floor. I gazed into the box’s content. A pair of movie tickets were set neatly on the top of the pile of junk I once called memories before I poured everything out onto the bed. Damn it was dusty. Picking up the movie tickets, I couldn’t help but to tear. My freaking eyeballs could just pop out of my freaking eye sacks from the waterfall of tear I cried. Finally! I knew I had to let it out eventually.
Lying there, thinking of the good times we had together, wondering if it were all real, or was she just pretending since day one. What was it about me that had ‘attracted’ her in the first place? How long had she been cheating on me? How did she fuck that son of a bitch? Okay, that’s enough. All these really don’t matter anymore. She’d left, and that’s all that matters.
On our very first date, she told me she’d been cheated on once before by someone she loved dearly, and that she would never do that to anyone as she knew the pain that they’d have to go through. Well, all that just seemed like bullshit to me now. I bet she’s laughing about this in the car on the way to a new home right now with a new guy.
I really did love her. I would’ve given up everything for her. Everything! Should I give up my life for her now? Yeah, I’ll make her regret leaving me. Then she’d feel the guilt for the rest of her life and never date anyone else. Then she’d be loyal to me, forever!
I must be delusional. How I wish reality could be as simple as that. Fact remains, she left me, I’m lonely, probably for the next few sad, pathetic years of my life to come, and I’m just plain depressing. One day, I hope, I’d be able to get over this. But not right now. Not anytime soon. She’s gone. My dear Monica, is gone. I’ll cry for you for a few more weeks, maybe months. But that’s it. Then, life goes on, no more tears for you, I hope.