Miserable at Best by Robert Clark (best ereader under 100 txt) 📕
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- Author: Robert Clark
Read book online «Miserable at Best by Robert Clark (best ereader under 100 txt) 📕». Author - Robert Clark
The day was miserable at best. The sky was a dying purple, a ball of ink quickly falling off the edge of the horizon. Its rays poured out like tears, and the jealous cold quickly swept them away. Nobody was out. My only companion? -- a dark, relentless cloud of emotion. It seemed to enjoy raining torment on me. I trudged along with my rough guilty hands in my soft forgiving pockets.
I walked by all the overbearing houses, filled with all those snide, haughty, too quick to judge families who never took the time to see for themselves. I wondered if any of them noticed me walking by. I wondered if anyone in my family had noticed me leaving. They rarely did. I had stopped doing all the old tricks; escaping through the window of my room, leaving my music on, lying to my mother. Now I just left; right through the front door, without as much as a glance over my shoulder. It was a freedom I had come to take comfort in. A freedom I normally enjoyed.
I walked on, shoulders slumped, listening to the cadence of my feet. The cloud tightened its grip. The tempo slowed. Why am I doing this? Is it really necessary? Even if it would tear me up inside, It’s the only way. Maybe it isn’t. But I have to do something. No I can’t back down now. I’ve already steeled myself. My thoughts swirled around in my head, dizzying me. My heart beat erratically. I clenched my teeth. I don’t want to do this. She doesn’t deserve it. Well, maybe she does, but I have no right to trample on her wilting dreams. No matter how misplaced they may be. I took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. I hate you God. How could you engineer the human heart with so many flaws? I looked down and found myself in the heart of her neighborhood. There was the house we always joked was haunted. The well kept grassy hills, the supposed remnants of the lady’s son and husband. And there was the spot where I proved to her I could do a back flip, or at least tried to. All I proved was that I could land on my ass. And there, was where we sat when I embarrassed myself by singing a childhood song. I still remember her questionable stare. I retraced the steps we usually took when we were together, and recalled all those heartfelt things she said to me. How can I destroy something as pure and as innocent as she? Easy, all I have to do is say a few small words and watch her heart crack, shake, and shatter. I could never. I spent so much time trying to win her heart. How was I so ready to forfeit? I wasn’t. But I had to. Why? I don’t know. Things weren’t right. Not like the way they used to be. Or maybe I just finally saw her for what she really was. Either way, I couldn’t continue. I stopped, looking on towards the forever extending line of houses, wondering what made this one so special. Whiskers started barking. After 15 months he still hadn’t come to accept me. I didn’t blame him.
I didn’t bother ringing the doorbell. It was a fake. Like her voicemail that started with “hello”. I could make out her obscure face through the door’s curved glass. She was all smiles. No matter how many times I ran it through my head, I could never be prepared for this. I took a deep breath and flashed the fakest smile I’d ever worn. She bought it. If not, she didn’t show it. She led me inside. Excited to tell me every insignificant detail of her day, she let fly a monologue like no other. Certainly nobody else thought what happened to their hair was relevant. Regardless, I stared into her eyes and nodded my feelings of mute interest. Her eyes were so animated, yet so shallow, and so glazed with the lust of affection that I never thought she’d perceive my own feelings. I had to interrupt her attack on my attention span, and asked her if she’d like to take a walk. By her smile, she obviously misinterpreted my intentions.
Outside I felt safer. Maybe it was the confidence that I could outrun her, or that there were people watching if she tried to make a scene. My mouth hung open, my throat was jammed with words. I was aching to get them out, but they clogged my throat, like a child who wasn’t ready to fall out of a tube slide.
Everything slowed down. Suddenly I was aware. Of everything. The sprinkler four houses down, the car pulling in, the neighbors door closing, the cat in the bushes, the crunch of our shoes on the road, the mosquito slowly circling. Aware of her loosening shoelace, her breathing, her heartbeat, her hair. The only thing I couldn’t see clearly was my own intentions. I stopped abruptly. This is whats best. For you. For us. Or maybe just for me, I thought. “Sarah”, she turned to look at me. “I need to…” “Well it’s just that…” “I…” I shook my head, and then gazed into her eyes “Would you rather be happy living a lie, or depressed knowing the truth?”
I don’t know what made me ask this. I don’t know why I wasted the next four months of my life. All I know is what she chose. And because of that, I was able to live the way I did. I could pretend that I was happy, and that she was the highlight of my life. I could pretend that I enjoyed her company and tolerated her friends. Was there any reason to stop making this girl happy? I had no one else in my life, but I didn’t have the same feelings for her anymore. Breaking up now would just be selfish. She wanted to be happy. I had given her that happiness. Who was I to take it away? So I condemned myself to self sacrifice. And the lies began that very day.
“Don’t ask me such ridiculous questions. You scare me. But I’ll always love you.” She would never understand. I breathed a long sigh. “I love you too”. My lip quivered. The cloud was suffocating me. I trembled, as it sealed itself away deep inside me. She took my limp, guilty hand and squeezed it. I felt nothing.
Publication Date: 05-29-2011
All Rights Reserved
Dedication:
for the one I used to love
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