lovers

A Story by madeline

a short story about someone who didn't understand why the girl the loved couldn't love them and about her reason for not being able to love them

I began my mornings like I always did, rolling around restlessly in my place for a few minutes before reaching over to grab my love and pull her close. however, that morning she pulled away and curled herself into her own ball of blankets. this wasn't the first time I had felt her pull away in the morning, so I left her to lie. the morning continued like this; me reaching out and her pulling away. I knew she had been hurt in the past, and I knew that love didn't come naturally for her. I had told her thousands of times that she could run from me and I would follow. she was the light of my life. naturally, I went through my days work thinking of her. I thought of her smile, I thought of her smile, her warmth, her softness, her heart. I thought of someone who id grown with, and who I wanted to continue to grow with. when I arrived at home, she was sitting on our balcony and sipping a drink. even with her back to me, I could tell she had a look of displeasure on her face. when I approached her, she fed me a slim smile and asked me about my day. I could feel her rigidness from across the three feet between us. the more I tried to coax some sort of emotion or affection out of her, and the more I failed, I became frustrated. I hadn't done anything to disturb our peace, I hadn't said the wrong thing or acted foolishly. I loved her and gave her satisfaction in any way she wanted. I was willing to do anything for her, and yet somehow all I felt was a cold, rigid body. she grew to be more and more empty each day. more mornings became like the previous and each evening turned into more and more frustration. I could hear her muffled crying at night as she wept into a pillow, and yet I knew that nothing I did could help her.

I began my morning feeling empty. I knew this day, and the days to come would carry me to the depths of my depression and I would be forced to sink until I hit rock bottom. I felt my lover's hands, and instantly became disgusted with myself. how could this person, this flawless, caring, endearing person love me? I pulled myself away from their touch, so that my dark and damaged self wouldn't taint them. I curled into myself and let silent tears roll down my face. I felt so far from what my lover needed me to be. I knew they continued to try to reach me and yet I couldn't muster up the energy to reciprocate their love. my self hatred grew into general hatred, and I grew to hate everything. I didn't want to hurt them, and I know they understood my withdrawal from livelihood but I felt so guilty for putting the person that I loved into such an awful place. once they left me at home, I just played on the floor and stared up to the ceiling. I thought of myself; my large legs, my flat hair, my god awful personality. I dwelled on my self hatred for hours, and only moved once I heard the jingling of keys outside of our door. I grabbed an old mug and slipped out to our balcony and stared outward. small tears came to my eyes as I began to imagine how much happier my love would be if they were with someone who could love them properly. once they sat beside me and urged me to love them, all I could think of was how I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to explain that I really am just a shell of a human, and that depression has sucked all life from me, so I let the empty days go on. the days all began to mesh and the misery in the air became impossible to ignore. I felt so helpless, and even though I was already dead I couldn't help but feel like I was drowning.