The Ballad of a Robot

Elizabeth: Outset

Wrote this instead of actually talking to you.

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Outset: A Very Short Story

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It was bitterly cold. Like when you stick your head out of the car during winter, and after an hour your cheeks will feel numb as fuck. That's more-or-less how I feel right now. The cold seems to be radiating off my chest and as weird as it seems, I can feel air going in and out of what feels like cracks in there.

It's weirder that I'm not out there going on parties and drinking intoxicants. It's Friday, it's 2AM and I live alone now. You used to hate that remember? You hate the way I handle the want to forget life's shitiness. Let alone me awake at wee hours of the morning. You liked it a little anyway. You love those early morning hours because it's one of the times when you can feel pure peace at its finest.

I stare out my window seeing the city lights, seeing the smog, seeing the moon, seeing homeless people. Somehow this made me feel emptier than I already am. I drank a bit from my tea with hopes that it'll give warmth to my still cold chest. When I do stay up late, we make tea and look up the sky. It wasn't as bright as the city lights but we like seeing stars. Being pretentious and all that. Talking about life, talking about things that no one might ever know about us. You told me you wanna die young and I told you how much I want to escape the harsh reality. You smiled and said we both do but that's sort of impossible.

On nights like that, I feet lucky that I met you and for what I found with you, even if it was a bit of zig zag route to get there. I knew we still have things that we didn't tell each other. There's always that and I'm fine with it. I still had a few dusty skeletons in my closet, but if you didn't want to shake them loose, I was content to keep yours hidden away too.

Now I sit alone doing our almost-ritual, looking at the bright lights instead of the stars. It's hard to see them in a busy city and the moon is the only thing that I have close to them. Seeing the moon reminded me of you and it might even know your name now because of all the stories I told about you. It made me breathe harder, a little. 

The clock's short hand went to three. You're probably still awake at this time, binge watching any show from your to-watch list, whether it's downloaded or on Netflix. With my phone in my hand, I got the urge to call you. I read somewhere that the first thing you forget about someone is the sound of their voice. How come yours still echo in my mind? 

I stopped talking to you because it hurts so much. Everything hurts too much. You being nice after everything terrified me because the overwhelming feeling of ending all of the things we had already broke me and I know I'll just fall in this bottomless pit of my love for you endlessly. It still ended up like that, only slower than I expected that I got used to it. I could've accepted your offer of being friends again, like what I usually do after break ups. But you, it was different with you. I wanted to keep hold of you but I don't. Like what I feel right now. I wanna call you but I don't.

I did though. 

I dialed your number, hoping that you're still using it. On the second ring, you answered. I thought you'd say "Hello" or "Please don't call me." You didn't. You knew it was me. Instead you said "You too, huh?" and after a few minutes of you just hearing me breathe, I answered "Yeah."

We talked. You ask me how was I and why am I awake at three in the morning. I asked you how were you and why you're awake at three in the morning. I didn't cry, you didn't crack. We were steady like how pretentious we are. We talked again like nothing ever happened, like nothing changed. It was good. Maybe this is how we'll start being friends, though I’ll never know why but I will always miss you.