I ran. Away from the problems I've created and the burden of the mistakes we both made. I always wondered how people did it. How they survived together for so long, no matter the mistakes they made. For me, its impossible to stay with her. Its like our hearts want us to be together but fate decided that our relationship wasn't worth saving. I figured it was my fault, after all I was the one who did it. It wasn't on purpose but I still did it. I killed the one person that she looked up to.
    Waking up everday is a constant struggle. Remembering what I did, and trying to forget her at the same time. My mind slips into this state of constant war, fighting with the will to keep going and the will to give up. I got to the therapist sometimes, but it never helps. I can never find the words to tell what I'm feeling. How could this stranger, who gets paid to listen to my problems, possibly understand how I feel.
    I get up, and walk over to my closet. It feels so empty without her stuff there. I look at the clothes I have and pick an outfit that I would wear tomorrow, and the day after that. It was all black. The only hint of color was the tiny bit of grey I had on there after I accidentally let my tears flow.
    I put the outfit on, knowing people would give me wierd looks like they always do. The stares that burn into your skin like a lit cigarette. The little whispers you hear as you walk past them, the whispers that haunt your sleep. The whispers that will stick with you after your third mental breakdown in an hour.
   You apply your makeup. Nobody needs to know what you look like under your makeup. The face that shows the sadness and anger you keep hidden inside of your mind.
   You put in your contacts. They're a dark brown. They hide the look of helplessness you hold when you look into your natural, blue eyes. They can't see the pain in your eyes when you see the people she used to hang out with pass you in the halls. Those same people that spread rumours and gossip about you like it was your fault for everything. Its ok, after all they aren't lying. She would still be with you if you had been smarter.
    Those help blogs always say that you should talk to someone. That you should have someone close to you that you can trust. What they cease to realize is that the person you would have talked to was gone. All your friends were just in your mind. Eventually everyone leaves. Just like she did.
    As they lowered the box into the ground, you wonder what would happen if she was here. As tears drip down your face, you realize that she would have left. But I made mistakes, and they ended up fatal for the one I loved.
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A strings of fate short story