Presents:
Sideline Story: 730 Days of Summer[/SIZE]
Day 730 – The Break Up
I can see it in her eyes from the start. She knows what was happening as we stand face to face in the middle of the forest we'd grown together. Our eyes hold an entire conversation without our lips ever speaking a word. She is fully aware of my intentions as my body ignites and become living flame. The body of the man she'd loved for so long disappears into a burning mass that she can no longer recognize.
"It doesn't have to be this way," she says as she stares into the spot my face had been only moments age.
I want to agree with her. I want to extinguish myself and run to hold her before it's too late. I want to not make her suffer through this, but my mind is made up.
She calls out in a voice filled with panic for me to stop as my flaming form turns and climbs the nearest tall spire of the forest. I hear her scream as I stretch out from my perch on the treetop and embrace the nearby branches with my outstretched flames. She sees the seriousness. She knows my determination as the canopy above her becomes engulfed in flames.
She begins to cry. I'm amazed she is able to cry. Even in this intense heat a small amount of moisture fights for survival in the form of tears running down her face. She lifts her head to scream out, "why?" but the sound is muffled by a flaming branch falling to the forest floor beside her. The impact sends a swarm of sparks dancing into the smoke filled air. She scrambles out of the way as more debris falls to the soft soil like a stone structure crumbling in an earthquake.
I know she doesn't understand. She doesn't understand why I've set our beautiful forest ablaze. She doesn't understand why I could allow something so lush and beautiful to burn to ash. She curses me as she looks around. The forest that we'd spent years growing and tending together, was being destroyed by walls of heartless flames.
"It doesn't have to be this way!" she calls out. "We can fix things! We've done it before!"
I sigh a puff of smoke. I've heard that before. I've heard it countless times. She believes things aren't as bad as they are, or at least, she chooses not to notice.
She only sees the beauty. The lush green leaves sprouting from the cloud scraping trees we've spent years watching grow. She only hears the birds singing and the streams flowing. She only feels the cool breezes and soft soil under her toes. Her senses are blinded by all the good, and forsake all else.
She doesn't see what I see. Behind the beauty are the hidden problems slowly destroying our lush forest like a cancer. She sees the awe inspiring tall trees that have grown over our many years together; but these trees have grown out of control and are now far too dense. No more light shines through their dome like canopy. What once was has become too great and is choking the life from what could be. New life growing from the forest floor is dying before it's matured enough to even know what being alive is. Robbed of rain and sunlight, these small sparks of life are far to early extinguished. The past is robbing the future, leaving us stuck in our ways. We cannot grow, we cannot change.
All around us, things have begun to rot and decay. Most of the birds have gone. The streams don't flow as full as they once did. She doesn't see, but I do. I've seen the truth for a good long time now. She says we can fix things, and we've tried for years. We've trimmed and pruned. We've tried to give new things a chance to grow, but the old trees only reach out farther; weaving their branches together until the sun is barred from reaching the forest floor.
I remind myself of these facts as I ignore her pleas and reach out my flaming fingers to latch onto the next tall spire in line. That which we've created must be destroyed if we are to continue growing.
She falls to her knees as she clutches her elbows. She calls me a monster. She tells me I'm heartless. Maybe she's right. Maybe this is too cruel a thing for someone to bare, but endings are never simple but are often necessary. Even in the intense heat, I see her shiver. Only true suffering can bring someone a chill in an inferno.
I weep too. Tears of ash fall from the heavens to the forest floor. I hope she can see that I'm hurting too, but I doubt it. It pains me to do this, but my decision is made and the flames have been set. There's no extinguishing them until there's nothing left to burn.
I long to take her from this moment of hell and show her the future. I wish she could see the new sprouts that will rise from these ashes. Tiny green buds of dreams and opportunities will be quick to take root. New life for both of us will come from horrific scene, but nothing new can be built until that which was is gone, and now is the time for destruction.
She cries and I am unable to give comfort. I cannot hold her in this form of destructive chaos I've become. I can only hope she finds the strength to save herself. The forest will burn. That which we've grown together will be destroyed. It is up to her if she will be consumed with it.
I watch her from the canopy through my flickering eyes. "This is the only way," I crackle. "This must be done." Her form is small from my vantage point, but I can still see her crouched down. The glow of the flames reflects off her pale skin. Her hair dances in the rushing wind.
She stands. Her tear soaked eyes rises to face the flaming sky I've created. Her expression has changed. Now there is anger; anger for me and my decision.
I see her rage and it pains me, but it also encourages me. I know anger can give her strength. If her love for me must turn to hate for her to stand proud once more, then I will be that sacrifice. She reaches out her right hand before her. Her fist is clenched. Her eyes are cold yet her anger is hotter than any flame I have produced.
She slowly opens her hand and my amber glow reflects back at me in the tiny gold ring I'd given her all those years ago. That ring was the seed that started the uncontrollable force of nature. It represented the catalyst for all the beauty and chaos we'd come to be surrounded with. It lay in her hand now as her offering of defeat.
Without a word, she turned her hand over and let the ring slip from her palm. Even amongst the crackling flames and loud crashes of tree trunks falling to the forest floor, the tiny thud that ring made as it landed in the soil was deafening.
She turned her anger filled gaze away from me and started walking. She didn't look back as she made her way to the forests edge. She shed no more tears as she emerged from the flaming tree line. She gave no more cries as I continued to devour the forest with the raging fires of my destructive intentions.
Not a single word was said by either of us as she walked away. Though our outlooks were different, one fact was very clear to the both of us. The past was gone. There was no going back. There would be a tomorrow for each of us, but not together. A new day would come, but not until the past had burned away.* * * * *
Day 78 - The Move InHe was not afraid of commitment though he was sure people have thought otherwise. Here he was: 24, with his girlfriend of two years – if one didn't take into account the break-ups they had gone through – and with only vague intentions of marriage. His younger brother was already married and father to a noisy and much-too-rambunctious set of toddlers. But here was Alexander: childless, with a girlfriend that he broke up with on a weekly basis. Five break-ups already and had she not finally put her foot down and given him an ultimatum, he was pretty sure he would have initiated a sixth.
"If we break up one more time it will be the last," she had said. "I just can't do this anymore."
Since then, their relationship had progressed smoothly with none of the turmoil that had plagued them in the past. He was no longer uncertain and she was now confident.
It was funny how easy things became when she put her foot down.
Granted, being certain now didn't equate to being completely satisfied. But here he was with Jasmine: a lanky, socially-awkward, emotionally insecure woman two years his junior. To everyone else, she seemed sweet, kind, and attached to the world as a free spirit. To Alex, she shunned his contact…his physical presence repulsed her. And the only thing he felt around her was like a failure.
"Now, I know she ain’t hella bad or nothin’ but there's something about her," was how he had first told his friends about her at one of their monthly dinners.
A few days later, when his friends finally met Jasmine, they had all smiled politely and refrained from comment – save for one friend who told him later, "I think she's really cute, X!" But that friend was first, supremely kind-hearted; and second, a woman, so her opinion on his girlfriend didn't really count.
"You found her. You found 'the one'," another one of his friend's, male this time, said after his second meeting with Jasmine.
Alex had chuckled dryly upon hearing that. "And what makes y’all say that?" he asked, genuinely curious but unable to keep his voice from sounding sardonic.
"It's all in your face, man. The minute you see her, your face lights up."
"Do I?"
"Yeah, you smile for her."
That little exchange was just convincing enough to make him wonder.
What did he like about Jasmine? He wasn't even sure himself. She was stoic and quiet – a beautician by profession and a wallflower by nature – but still oddly obtrusive. Well, perhaps that description was a little extreme. It was just that even when they weren't saying a word to each other, Alex could still
feel her presence – not acute, not overbearing, just a constant pulsing beat that moved in and out of his sense range.
There was only one thing that could get her to speak without reserve and that was when she talked about her passion – not Alex, but for things like Lady Gaga, Hello Kitty, and Idina Menzel. Tall, thin women in lipstick and full make-up courted their slightly shorter, equally slim women in stories that ranged from historical to just plain campy. Alex had found himself forced into watching a DVD of the show on more than one occasion and found them so gender-bending that he would have called Jasmine's sexuality into question had he not already been sleeping with her on a regular basis.
"I don't see what the fuck is goin’ on in these shows," he had said to Jasmine once night, a painful two hours after they had finished watching the latest purchase she had paid a pretty penny to ship from Japan. "Her dancin’ is mediocre, the singin’ is high-pitched, and the actin’ is over-exaggerated. Just what is it that makes you go so crazy for this-" he was about to say 'shit' but one look at the way her lips thinned and he caught himself in time, "-type of entertainment?"
With a glare that was oddly piercing despite the thick glasses that she wore, Jasmine's lips un-thinned long enough to reply with, "I find the gallantry of the men in the show hot." She then pushed herself off of the slightly ratty navy blue couch abruptly and walked away from him.
Staring at her back as she practically stomped down the short hallway of his tiny bachelor apartment, Alex felt somewhat conflicted. Should he be feeling offended by her obvious jab at him? Or, should he be confused that he had just been compared to a cross-dressing woman? He almost felt tempted to pursue the question further but, as he heard her slam the bathroom door shut, he decided that it would be wise to just shut up.
Their relationship was full of moments like that, with many thoughts left unsaid and many discussions avoided. For the most part, Alex preferred their lack of need for a conversation. He felt that whole 'let's talk about our feelings' thing was for hippies and he figured if Alex was angry about something, she would let him know...in her own little passive-aggressive way.
One such time when he felt it would be good to find out what the hell his girlfriend was thinking was when he realized she was spending more time in his apartment than usual.
At first, he decided to just take it easy and figure out the situation as it unfolded. However, after a good two weeks of cringing as he was forced to dry himself off with a bath towel that was always damp because she would shower before him, he finally asked the question that had been weighing on his mind for the last two weeks.
"Have you gone home at all?"
She turned her attention from the television screen to him, her eyes sharp and inquisitive as she appeared to study him from her side of the couch. A beat of silence passed before she replied with a simple, "No."
Alex's brow furrowed unconsciously as their gazes held and locked. In the background, he could vaguely hear the announcer of the game show welcome everyone back from the commercial break but he felt that if he was to look away from Jasmine, he would have conceded something to her in some way.
She merely watched him, her face carefully blank.
After a full minute of mutual staring, Alex finally blinked. "Okay." Now it was his turn to pause and consider his next words. "I guess we better buy you a towel then."
Satisfied with how he had handled the situation, he turned back to the television screen to catch the end of the show.
When he felt her hand wrap around his and squeeze, his face lit up in a smile.
* * * * *
Day 781 – The Rebound
This is the only thing I’ve got left. The only woman that will have me. The only thing that makes me feel..special anymore.
This ring.
This game.
This time.
But I look at her. Lying in front of me naked. And all it does remind me that she’s exactly like the last one. And try as I might to replace the feelings of emptiness, I’m only reminded of her face.
Her laugh.
Her smile.
Her tears.
I struggle to balance my dreams with my reality. And the one thing I’m confronted with consistently is that I’ve always been putting others happiness before my own. I am the Sad Clown – the Halfbreed Minstrel. And my stage is my sadness while my song is my sorrow.
I find myself scrolling through her Facebook and just staring at her face for hours on end, reminiscing about the good times we had while lamenting I'm too young to already feel this way. Too young and stupid to already know the pain of heartbreak and it's favorite companion of failure. I remember those brief kisses we shared. The laughs we had. The conversations we held into the wee hours of the night. And hate myself for replacing her with this new bitch...
This new bitch who is nothing but a fleeting chase. Most of you know her as the business.
The business rules all in our lives. She tells us when to jump? We say how high. She demands most of our time? And we never ask how long. With cats like Styxx, Tromboner Man, Sheepster, Morpheus, cYnical, SoL, X...they can never actually leave her. They're always enamored with her sultry beauty. Always tempted by her veiled face. Always heartbroken when she leaves them for a new nigga. And always right back in to hold her hand when she beckons.
She is my rebound girl. The only thing I have left to complete me. The only thing that makes the long nights less lonely and the bright mornings with a faceless woman more than just empty gestures. I feel that it's time to finally commit to her. To finally give to her what I could never give Jasmine. To finally say "with this belt, I thee wed".
Twice now I've been jilted at the altar. Most people after that failure would succumb or submit. But Styxx brought up a very interesting point; I haven't yet. And in the vein, I'm just like them. I'm just as good as the Old Guard. I'm just as important to this business as a cYnical or a SoL. I am her new man that she so cleverly, so tactically has seduced with the allure of fame, glory, and fortune. I can't let her fuck with this old nigga no more. Because every time I see her kissing him, loving him, touching him, the only thing I feel is jealousy.
Why can't that be me?
And, again, all I feel is emptiness.
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