Saving Boston (Rewritten)

She Is Worth Giving Up For

The woman in front of me talked about my recent decisions, and she analyzed them as if I couldn't decipher when they started to go wrong in the first place. My eyes were focused on the window pane, though. The water trickling down the glass reminded me of the moments I loved the most with Bo. She seemed the most authentic when the skies were gray and rumbling. So, I watched the raindrops fall until my therapist asked if I was listening. Then I would turn my head back toward her and nod to the words she spoke until I convinced her I cared about what she said.

As her voice drifted off, the pad of my thumb ran over the typewriter letters on my wrist until I felt suffocated with pain. Coping didn't feel the same for me anymore. Those highs I used to feel are nowadays regrets, and temporary relief is tonight's reason for sitting in front of my therapist. But alcohol and fighting didn't land me here. The dickhead judge who wanted me to sit behind bars wasn't why I sat on this stupid fucking green couch as I listened to my worst mistakes from someone else's perspective.

After watching Bo walk away, I couldn't sit alone with myself. The sound of her sobs echoing through the empty street played in my head like heart strings strumming the wrong chords. So, I found myself sitting on this stupid fucking velvet green couch because I went looking for change, and I found it cooped up in a small city office.

"Why do I make her cry?" I interrupted as my head shifted to look in the lady's direction. "How is it that I wanted to give her the world, and I am the very reason it crumbled at her feet? Why do I want to do good things for her, but somehow it always goes wrong?"

She didn't say a word but let me continue as I raked my fingers through my hair. "I don't actively look for reasons to fuck everything up, but my actions are on repeat, and I don't know how to stop them from permanently playing reruns."

"Permanently playing reruns?"

"Yes," a huff shoved past my lips. "It is as if I have a shelf of movies and the only ones that get picked are the depressing movies with hours of anger and just a few seconds of happiness. I want to play her new movies, but what if my projector has been running for so long that it is incapable of being fixed? What if I cannot portray the person I want to be? Because I am fucking up, and everyone's watching as if I am on a big screen."

"What are you saying?"

The burning in my eyes made my face drop to my tattooed knees. "I am not capable of change. No matter how badly I want it or thoroughly try. Change isn't for everyone, and it's surely not meant for me."

A sigh left her lips, catching me off guard as her head moved back and forth as if I made her disappointed. "You are wrong."

I scoffed. "Enlighten me."

"You aren't capable of change, so you say," she adjusted the glasses on her face. "Then why are you here making the effort? You want to believe self-development happens just because you want to be better, and it doesn't. Either you fight through the pain, or you give up to remain the same."

"What are you saying?"

"Pick your pain because only one of those decisions will heal you, and the other will keep you up at night," she spoke gently. "You didn't walk into a gym being the best boxer; you worked for it. No matter how badly it hurt or difficult, it became, you worked until it no longer felt that way. Some things are worth fighting for, so you need to start asking if what you are fighting for is worth all of this?"

I quickly rubbed the tear from my eye before it fell. "I love her, Maleigha."

"Is she worth fighting for?"

My head started shaking. "She is worth giving up for."

"Giving up, hm?"

"I just don't want to fight anymore," my voice cracked. "And the only fight I am in is the one with myself and I constantly feel defeated."

"Why are you fighting yourself so much?"

"I want to change, but there is a small part of me who wants to walk away."

"Is that small part of you wrong for wanting to walk away?"

"Yes," my eyes met hers. "Every issue I faced, I moved forward. I am not a runner. Conflict doesn't bother me, but -"

"But?"

"I am willing to walk away from everything I know to build a life that is capable of keeping her in it," I admitted. "I never had that, so the part of me that wants to continue fighting is hard to defeat because he won't surrender."

"And what about Bo?"

"Bo never made me want to fight harder, she made me want to give up," I rubbed over my face. "One look at her, and I wanted to heal."

"She made you want to change?"

My head moved back and forth. "No, she made me want to be a better person."

"Just one look?"

"I don't believe in love at first sight," the corner of my lips tugged upward. "Don't get me wrong, but I do believe in seeing someone from across the room, and even though you don't know each other, you start to question if you'd ever be good enough for someone like that. It doesn't matter if you faced confrontation head on or that you could drop anyone with your barehands. Not at all. Because you'll look at her and realize that none of that matters. One look at her and she'll have you questioning every bad fucking decision you ever made in your life. Even though you don't know her, you're willing to change your ways just to even know her name -"

"The first time I saw her, perched on a dirty fucking couch at a random party I didn't want to be at, and she smiled, I was a fucking goner. No one kept my attention for long. Shit, my friends will tell you that ninety percent of the time, I am not listening to them, but she smiled and my eyes couldn't leave her face."

"Tell me more about the party that night," she furrowed her eyebrows. "The first time you saw her."

"Where do you want me to start?"

"From the part you can first remember."