In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “1984.”
In the summer of 1984, all I can remember from then is a whisky, faded memory of you in that very room that was too large for comfort, and the look on your face when you told me it was too much for you. I remember sitting just opposite you not knowing what to say or how to react, as you stared at me with those beautiful, yet tear-filled eyes of yours, begging me to believe your words. The room wasn’t locked, and you fled easily, but it wasn’t the same for me. I found myself trapped inexplicably in it, locked in (or out), I wasn’t sure. I had tried to run away, but was pulled back every time. I was terrified, you were potent and I knew your words cut deep. Now all the room holds are strings attaching themselves to me and there’s blood strewn in places I had hoped you would’ve been.
Maybe you were right, you weren’t lying about being stripped of choice, but I struggled with my own as I watched you walk away. What else could I have hoped for? Would I rather have pleaded you stay to see sympathy and guilt in your eyes, when the fire in there just wasn’t alive anymore? I had hoped I could fuel you, add sparks of colour and give you what you wanted, whether acquaintances or more, but never did I expect to be any less than that.
I had hoped you’d stay with me, I didn’t care much whether I was blissful with an empty shell of a person but all I needed was to have you by my side, and now that it isn’t in my grasp anymore, there doesn’t seem to be any reason to exist with stale memories at the back of my mind. It was you who told me so violently that to love is to live and vice versa, and I trusted you with all my heart but now, I’M stripped of choice because of you, and I wish I’d wanted you dead instead. However, since I know now it was never me and all you ever wanted was to fool a foolish heart, I’ll see you again in 2134, perhaps in somewhere you used to speak of with such sparkling eyes that were full of energy that that, was your utopia and perhaps then, it’ll be mine too and I’ll love you all over again.