Hand In Hand With The Broken

I never complained... Nothing she did ever bothered me. She practically kept me alive. She wasn't like anyone I'd ever met. She was like me; shattered, broken, with a terrible past. You could say I'd learnt to live with it. She hadn't. Everything changed all in moment. Ripped apart in seconds and a few lines what I built in eleven years.

My journey was supposed to be fifteen hours since it was by bus,but ours kept stopping, being searched for any illegal substance, or incriminating evidences that could leech out some money from us.

We landed at out destination eventually. Took us twenty-four hours. A journey that begun 1AM on Sunday, now it was 1:20AM on Monday.

Standing up to stretch was as unreal as it could get. I'd slept over half a dozen times on the bus, and it had really fucked up my sleep pattern.

Getting off the bus was barbaric. The driver had shut all fifty-four of us inside for ten minutes, and killed all the air conditioners. Everyone could hardly breathe any air, and the little that we could had been taken in and passed out about three times.

After an eternity taken to get off the bus, it was another rush, another battle to get my luggages out.

Between those thirty minuites, I'd been shoved around once every three seconds, elbowed in the face thrice, accidentally punched in the nose, pushed, fallen... all once each.

The battle was finally over. I'd secured my two bags. What I thought of next was...HER. I'd remembered... We had a little misunderstanding a few hours before I travelled.

It had been bugging me all day in the bus. I replayed every moment and every word we said. I'd said my mind, and I was actually pretty sorry about that. I just wanted to prove a point. I didn't know what it was. It was all so stupid of me.

Lips chapped out from a whole days damage of the cruel harmattan didn't mean a thing to me anymore as I searched for my phone and switched it on.

'YES!!!' I yelled delighted that I finally found network at my destination. I could text her now.

I'd wanted to tell her how sorry I was, how I missed her, and so many things, my head couldn't comprehend.

I beamed a smile as soon as I saw that of received a text from her.

I opened it, and my smile died. My expression was instantly transformed into a combination of a state of soberness and disbelief. I can't find the right words.

I think out of the bustle, people pushed and tugged me more than ever before. I honestly can't remember. The world around me seemed to cease to exist.

I didn't believe in having to sit down before I received certain sur-real news. I'd always thought it was being dramatic, but right then...I had to, because it was too hard to keep my feet.

Hastily, I found a place to sit and wait out till morning. I got out my phone after I was seated and re-read the message.

As I read, I was so close to tears.

"I know you really wanted me to stay, but I'm sorry I'm leaving. I don't think you will ever be able to contact me again. I'm leaving your life for good. Shawn, the past few weeks we've talked have been amazing and I'm extremely grateful. I'm guessing somewhere along the line between cheesy jokes and random convo topics I fell in love with you. I honestly did. It surprised me, I didn't think I'd fall for another guy so soon after my breakup but I did. You're sincerely one of the nicest guys I've met. You have one of the purest hearts I've seen and its not often I find one. You're broken.. But you're whole. Whole in a way many people will never ever be.

I'm sorry if along the way I've hurt you with my words or my actions I sincerely never intended that. I can be like that sometimes... Messing things up without even knowing it. Guess it comes with being broken. I just pray you remember me cause I know everyday I will. I also pray you stop cutting and learn to love yourself just as much as I have come to love you. I hope you never stop being you, because you are amazing and wonderful... But can never be mine. You won't understand, but I can't watch another person get hurt because of me. I won't be selfish and stay because like a farytale story I already know the ending. Please forgive me. I love you.. xoxo"

After I read this, I was devastated. I bit my lip. I wanted to say so much, but she'd killed me.

I swear I didn't move, but my heart took over, and all I could type were:

"Please don't do this. Please don't"... But what I wanted to say was:

"These eyes don't deserve the things they've read. I wish you'd never talked at all." I didn't hate her at all, but now what hurt was that she wouldn't be able to receive them. Sent, but not delivered. And it would stay that way forever. She'd deleted every social network she'd been on. I guess the actual worst part was that I'd never see or talk to her again.

Love? Rage? Sorrow? Resent? Deserted? Pain? I didn't know what I felt anymore, sincerely.

Here's how it was... We'd never met before, but writing books brought us together and we both fell in love. Less than two weeks; that's the period everything happened. From the first hello till the final words. We understood each other; we were so alike.

I'd just been through a painful breakup, but she taught me how to love again, even someone I'd never seen. I knew how to write books, but she taught me how to be inspired to write. Her stories came from the heart. She taught me how to actually live life and cope with my depression problems. And I hopefully taught her that not every guy was the same, and that people who stood out were still left.

When I became depressed, I would cut or sulk for long periods. But now I was so depressed that I didn't even reason towards either. I guess that's how I knew how damaging this was to me.

Ending everything with those three words didn't solve anything... It didn't make anything any better. Not even hell would forget this. I'd probably never love again at all, and I'm left with nothing because that's all I used to have: HER.

There was nothing I could do now, so I picked up a pen and a notebook and wrote everything. One last story, then I was done being an author. I only hoped she'd actually read it. I guess she did.

If I could speak to her, I didn't know what I'd say. A lyric of one of my favorite songs said:

"Everything that you ever loved will be taken away the moment you close your eyes..." I guess that song was written for me.

I regretted that I couldn't wave one last goodbye to the friend I once knew.

I dropped my pen and shut my eyes again hoping she'd be there in the morning when I woke.

I never saw a thing till I shut my eyes, I never knew a thing till I lost my mind. I would sell my soul to go back again.

I opened my note and wrote one last line:

"Still I'm here... I'm writing for you."