Amsterdam.

- Drifting III -

Part three! Yaaay! Honestly, I didn't even plan on writing a second, not to mention a third part, but you requested some sequels, so I'm doing my best to write them all. Thanks for the votes and comments on the previous parts. 

Got this song on replay, it's really good. 

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  "...The games you played were never fun
You'd say you'd stay but then you'd run ..." 

*One year later*

Wednesday, 10:33 p.m.

The sight never ceased to disappoint you, especially at night. You always loved to admire the city from above; and you were lucky enough to be living in a penthouse of one of the tallest buildings in Amsterdam. The vista stretched endlessly, you could see every little street and every canal of that beautiful city people often called Sin City. You were holding a cup of tea in your hands, trying to warm yourself up but failed, the winter was just too harsh, even though you weren't out in the open. You often missed those summer evenings when you could go out on the big terrace in your summer dress and watch the beautiful sky, city lights and the fast life happening on the busy streets. Those days were over and now the only thing left was the cold. 

One year had passed, maybe even more. It was already December, near Christmas period, when all people spent their Holidays with their families and people they loved. You were alone in your huge apartment in the center of Amsterdam, the one you once shared with the boy you thought you would spend the rest of your life with. The boy you wished that hadn't given up on you so fast. 

He left one or two hoodies in the closet. He left a few photographs of the two of you, and took only the framed one from the shelves next to your side of the bed. He left his favorite cup you bought him as a belated gift for his 21st birthday. He left the almost empty bottle of his perfume you loved so much. But the only thing he didn't leave was himself. He took everything else. 

You saw the pictures on the Internet again, the pictures of him and his new girlfriend, Charelle Schriek. She was beautiful, you couldn't lie. You hoped she was making him happier than you were. You were trying so hard not to look through the comments on his recent Instagram posts and see your name mentioned down there, but you failed miserably every time and noticed that, even after a year, the fans didn't forget about you. They often asked him about you and were curious about why you guys split up. He would often brush it off, saying that it was a private thing and you would do the same, although it wasn't easy and sometimes you wanted to tell the truth. 

But what to write?

"He was gone, he partied around, he kissed his fans, I got tired and I left?" Blah, blah, blah, fucking cliche. 

He was back in Amsterdam, your friends told you. You stayed in contact with some of your mutual friends and you found out through them, they said he was quite happy. He became even more successful and popular, he released a few new songs that became more and more requested at clubs and played on radio stations. 

You were happy for him, you really were. 

The only person you weren't happy for was yourself. 

The sleeping pills stopped helping, so you stopped sleeping. You barely ate anything which made all of those tight jeans hang loose on your once slightly curvy body. Your skin became paler, grayer, your hair lost shine. You convinced yourself it was the winter sadness, in oppose to Lana Del Rey's opinion. It was just that time of the year, right?