Off the Record

Ⅱ

 My mind is in a mass clutter as I think about all of the suffering I've seen over the past five years. I became strong in a matter of days.

As every day passed, I felt myself collapsing into a Nicholas Sparks book without the happy-go-lucky ending; in the long run, I am only pretending to be happy.

After all this time, I have yet to actually share my feeling about it to anyone. I just don't understand this god damned world and I never felt okay with sharing. There's no point when all I have is myself. No one else can help with what I'm going through.

On top of all of that, this asshole is looking at me like I'm about to shatter into fragments that will eventually disintegrate into thin air. I only wanted to do this for my parents because it makes them happy but, I can't handle this, especially not tonight.

These damn support groups only remind me of him and the family that could have stayed together. The family that could have grown old together with reunions every other year.

I would have been able to see him get married.

The world isn't like that; just like everything else, it is imperfect. In a bizarre way, I'm envious of the world. It wears it's flaws and knows it's future while I bury mine deep beneath the ground. I'd give anything to go back and make everyone stay home that day.

I was already a block away from the support group before I even realized that I had begun walking. My eyes blink a few times to figure out where I actually was until I look around to find an extremely familiar place.

I stall at a playground that I used to play at when I was younger. I take a few slow and unsure steps to the swings that creak in the spring breeze. I take the chain with my right hand and move my fingers in circles gently. The metal is cold, even in the summer air of June.

I turn around so that my back is to the swings. I go up on my tip-toes and sit down on the chilled rubber seat. I swing my legs back and forth, my feet continuously kicking up the bark, flinging it in front of me.

I begin humming "Piano Man," by Billy Joel. My eyes flutter closed as my head falls backwards and I start to swing. I imagine I am in the sky and everyone down on earth is so small. All of the problems in the world just seem so little and insignificant.

I hear an exasperated sigh coming from in front of me, causing me to jolt out of the swing, almost tripping over my own feet. The guy from support group is sitting on a bench that's diagonal from me. His eyes are like fireflies in the night with all of the nightlife gone.

Seattle is seen as this promiscuous place with bright lights and drenched sidewalks. As the night goes on, we lose the lights and gain the occasional rainfall. It's not too bad.

At least when it rains, I'm not crying alone.

"Were you following me?" I say sharply, the tone in my voice filled with annoyance.

"Okay, David Hasselhoff, not to be rude or anything, but heres a pin," I hold up my fingers as if I'm holding a needle, "and here's your egotistical balloon." I pretend to grab a bubble and pop it, emphasizing the sound affects with smacking my lips together.

His eyes narrow as he glares at me, his eyes flushed out with irritation. What the hell does this guy want? I obviously want to be left alone, yet he continues to follow me.

"Wait. Why David Hasselhoff?" He sounds genuinely concerned about my nickname for him.

"Well, for one, he's extremely egotistical, I mean the poor guy thought that he himself ended the Cold War."

"What the hell does that have to do with me?" I shake my head in amusement. obviously he didn't catch my little joke about his ego. He continues, ignoring the bitchy smirk on my lips. "My names Lucas but I go by Luke." He states unnecessarily.

I mean, he can just leave and it wouldn't keep me awake at night if I never found out his name. Apparently, he has a different agenda.

"Oh look, you have the same name as my dog!" My lips curl into a smirk after I finish scoffing at him. I don't exactly have a dog, but he doesn't need to know and if I did I wouldn't name him Lucas. Luke maybe, but only after Luke Skywalker.

Taking his arm up to reach behind his back, he awkwardly scratches behind his ear while he attempts not to shoot a glare my way. His eyes catch mine once again and he continues, "Look, I seriously didn't mean to scare you, it's just that I saw the pain in your eyes earlier. I saw the pain that I've known for so long. The pain that lingers even when you're sleeping, it finds you in your nightmares. It latches onto you like a cannibalistic bastard and there isn't an escape. It's horrifying." He was looking away now, glancing up towards the waning moon. "For a second, I thought that maybe I could help you but who the hell am I kidding? I can't even help myself; I'm just stuck in a storm. It's like a god damn Hurricane Lucas up in here." He points to his head and gives me a resistant smile that fades just as quickly as it appears.

"Like you actually care." That makes his face harden with anger. "Look bud, let's get one thing straight, I don't need help. I'm already broken; a machine with unsalvageable parts. I'll end up in a junk yard soon enough and I'm completely content with that fate. I deserve it and have accepted that. Maybe you need to accept that Hurricane Lucas is a natural force; a creation of your own making." I sigh in irritation.

A war is coursing through my blood, running through my veins.

Can I just punch him already? I'd be okay with breaking bones over that. I don't even know what's going on with me or why I feel compelled to tell him all about my own shit storm.

His smile was sort of comforting though; it was the same smile I had seen on numerous accounts in the mirror. "I guess we are at a standstill: it appears we are both broken." The corners of his lips tug into a slightly relieved smile, pulled tightly at the edges.

It honestly gets better, I promise. ;)

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xoxo