Disclaimer : Guys, this is just fictional. Nothing to do with me. It’s just a short story that I wrote. I think I’ve mislead a few people into believing that it’s me. Sorry guys! 🙂

Dread! It’s still raining outside and I am still so sick. So sick that I felt like my head is about to explode. I hate this. I really hate this. How can I survive tonight?

“So, you’re not going to answer me?”

I chose to shy away. Getting a little annoyed by it all.

“What about it?”

Hoping that the conversation would just stop there instead of going on and on until you can even write a book about it; something like a three-fold Utopian folklore.

“Think about it. Doesn’t it seem like it’s a little bit too fast? Does the word WHY even occurred in your fucking retarded mind? Don’t you ever wonder why?”

Upset. That’s the only word that I can use to describe the tone. I am not enjoying this conversation, really.

“What do you expect me to say? Oh… I feel so fucking sad and so fucking terrible that I want to end my life here at this point of my fucking useless life. I am feeling like a dork, I am so dumb, I am a dweep and I am a sucker with no self esteem. Is that what you want to hear?”

I hope she got my message clear by then.

“You just don’t fucking get it don’t you?”

“Get what? All I can think of right now is that you get the fuck out of my fucking life!”

I know it is not as easy as it seems like

“So, meaning that you’re actually okay with things? You’re okay with what the rest think of it?”

“So fucking what? To hell with what the rest think of it …”

I paused for a while. That was a little bit harsh and so not me. Why am I being so … I don’t know how to put it? Self centered? Maybe

“You’re so weak. You’re not as tough as you seems like. Stop pretending”

“What’s your problem actually? If there’s a need to be sorry, to feel guilty it would be me and not you. Why does this bothers you so much?”

“Because I feel for you! I feel for every single tear that ran down your cheek every fucking time you got hurt, I feel for every single sweat you dropped trying to make life better for the two of you but in the end what? You are nothing but a highly decomposed pile of shit covered with maggots. And all I can hear … your cries. The sad part is, after all that you’ve done, you are nothing”

“Listen, I’ve moved on. I am enjoying every single bit of my fucking life here and I don’t give a damn on what had happened. I know I should’ve seen it coming a long, long time ago but the most important part is I have my own life now and I am pretty much happy with it. I was trying to tell you this all these while but all you do was telling me to be sad, to do something about it. Yes! I did – I do feel sad but what does that going to do to me? Does that supposed to make me feel any better?”

All of a sudden, there’s a killing silence in the bedroom.

“Can we just save this for another day? I am really tired”

No answer …