The Boy

Um. The story pretty much sum it up. Wrote it fast, as some sort of journal entry.

There is a boy in pain.  He would tell you that he was fed up with the world.  But that would be a lie.  If you asked him again, he would surrender and admit that he was fed up with people.  This also is a lie.  If you catch this and ask again, he will finally submit and tell you what he was fed up with.  He is fed up with a girl. 

He was fed up with remembering the times they spent together.  He was fed up remembering that they are no longer together.  As hard as he tries though he cannot escape her.  Little does she know that she haunts him.  Her name is mentioned in conversation.  The instrument she played is talked about.  He would see a color that would remind him of her hair.  He would see a simple two digit number that would wreck him.  He would have a major research paper due the day of her birthday.  The whole paper, he would be unable to stop thinking about her due to the convenient date.

This boy will see her in the halls.  He will notice the emptiness in her eyes when he looks at him.  The eyes that used to hold the reason he woke up.  This boy will walk by, and in attempt to keep some sort of pride, he acts like he didn’t see her.  If he did see her, he would say hi to her.  A “hi” that has some small resemblance of the ecstasy he used to have when saying it.

This boy hates this girl. He hates how she hurt him.                  

This boy hates himself.  He hates that he can’t stop thinking about her.   That he can’t get that smile out of his mind.  That those eyes are locked in memory.  The voice that used to speak such kind words to him is stuck on repeat.

This boy used to love her.  Now he hates her.

This boy is writing to forget her.  This boys loves her still.

Author's Note

Ignore grammar and possible mispellings. I was just writing down a thought process.

Reviews

[Jahube]

Hey thanks man. I really didn't know why I was putting this uphere. Just felt right to.

[S. Kimball]

I'm in the same situation, dude. I really feel for you.

This short story may only have some meaning to me because I understand, but I think it might have meaning for others as well.

Good job.