One Of Those Days When You Hope For A Losing Streak At Russi

[committed]

One Of Those Days When You Hope For A Losing Streak At Russian Roulette

My alarm clock sounded. Instantly, reality hit me like a sledgehammer. How was I going to pull myself out of bed on the brand new worst day of my life? I sat up and stared at the cold and dull concrete walls that would be acting as my cell, imprisoning me in the newfound emptiness of my heart. I pulled the shade back an inch and peeked out the window. Nothing but a muddled construction site and a parking lot that was torn to pieces. I could relate.

"Four stories," I thought, "I'd be dead on impact." I passed on that idea and glanced over at my sleeping roommate. He was sound asleep, trapped in his sad little world of video games, weekend alcohol binges, and zero early classes. It would have been so easy just to take my pillow and put us both out of his misery. I figured I could plead temporary insanity, due to the break up. I passed on that idea too. Aggravated, I stomped down the bitter, freezing hallway to take a shower.

All day long, through breakfast, class, lunch, and more class, I wasn't with it. My mind kept reliving the previous night. "Jeff, I'm not meant to be with someone right now. I'm sorry." Yeah, well, "sorry," doesn't cut it. I wanted to wring her neck, trapping those bullshit words in her lungs. But I couldn't. I wouldn't. What kind of boy murders the only girl he ever loved?

I found time that afternoon to make my way to the quad. I didn't go there very often. But there I was. I thought I might be able to find solace there. Or at least isolation. I brought a notebook with me in hopes of purging my thoughts into it. I sat down on the grey, stone bench and looked around myself in a full circle. My head was spinning so much, I'm not sure if I even had to turn around to look behind me. There was no one in sight. I exhaled into my fists trying to warm my fingers. They were as stiff and cold as the six concrete columns towering over me. I traced the columns with my eyes up to the sky. There was nothing there, only a pale ceiling slowly lowering its weight on to me. I quickly refocused my eyes to my notebook. The page was blank. I tried desperately to breathe life into it, hoping it would in turn breathe life into me. But it was useless. The only things that paper would ever see were buckets of tears and puddles of blood.

A breeze pushed through and leaves skidded by on the sidewalk in front of me. I felt the cold creeping up on me. It whispered in my ear. Just one word: alone. I looked around again. I was alone. I closed my eyes. No, I was <u>alone</u>. This was only the first day. I couldn't begin to imagine what the rest would feel like. It was November. A bleak November. My body ached for spring. It ached for her. Fed up, I began walking back to my dorm. Then I got a better idea.

"I could crawl all the way back to her. If she saw the blood on my knees and elbows she would have to take me back. And I'll tuck my shirt into my pants to keep the pieces of my heart from falling out. When I get there, I'll tell her I need her and apologize for the stains on her carpet. And when she says she can't look me in the eye and say she loves me, I'll cut them out and throw them away. Because there's nothing I wouldn't do for the girl I love." Then that sledgehammer hit me again and I remembered that she dumped me. But I felt a little better when I realized today wouldn't always be the worst day of my life. With that in mind, I began wondering how I would pull myself out of bed tomorrow on the brand new worst day of my life.

[starseed_10]

brilliant.