Short Stories

Lost Control

There are some fantasies that aren't meant to be believed in. Some are just harmful jokes, others, are mental colossal chaos. Then you have mine, that ended with the bang of the night. The summer breeze, the tears on my depressing face. It ended, and I couldn't have controlled it. It was dramatic, it was amazing, sad, uncalled for. It was mine. But I shouldn't have took that offer to go back to what was mine.

Friday night, I saw my way through the bright, hot sun, and you were right there. I thought you were waiting on me with a smile. I thought for just a second, that the choice I made would be right. But it quickly turned to ash, as I saw that you moved on.

But then in the night, the bottle of liquor was in your hand, as you sniffled and smiled, as you talked about your memories of me, of all our happy, and sad times with yourself. You were even thankful for all our fights, although when I was alive, you said you wished you could remove them all. You even apologized, for that one day when you didn't get my favorite red bow and lotus flowers.

When you were all done, you'd go to your wife, and she'd give you, maybe what was the most warmest hug, and you never let out a single whimper, as you hushed her to your bedroom. You never once showed her the eyes full of sad tears. Even though, you knew it was wrong, just because you wanted to make our children have a live mother figure.

Even in the early dust kissed morning, your wife called up her therapist, about how she worried about her emotional attachment to you. To someone she knew had no affection for her whatsoever. She worried about you suddenly ending it all. She worried that you were too mentally unstable, as was she, too emotionally unavailable. She was worried that you'd explode on our children, and take their lives, cause they had my eyes.

It had me wondering how deep I made you go. How much further you had left. How far you were gone.

It was so hurtful to watch, and I couldn't do a single thing. I couldn't cry, and most of all, I couldn't give you comfort.

And it all happened because of me losing control.

I stopped writing and looked up at the high apartment building, that was now empty in my universe. That I could hear the pathetic zinc hit against the roofs of concrete.

And I wrote my last sentence, before I threw the book away, welcomed my absolute darkened abyss fate.

‘It all happened because I couldn't take it anymore.’