Depressing Short Stories

So Sick

People call me weird and a freak for turning off the radio when a love song plays. These days, most songs are love songs so it isn't a normal thing for one not to love love songs. But me? I'm so sick of them.

I'm sick of everyone and everything. I can't stand looking at couples and at how happy they look to have each other. Perhaps its because mine got stolen away from me. Maybe that's why I'm so bitter and fed up of love songs.

I don't know why love songs are sad and slow. I despise those love songs who make love into something not important, something to trifle with. One of the reasons I don't like love songs it's because they make me cry.

I hate crying. I promised myself to not cry anymore. Not after what happened. I'm suppose to be strong, supposed to get over it. But I can't. I never knew if he loved me or not. I never knew what he thought of me. I won't ever know.

All because he decided to try to commit suicide and one idiot decided to 'help' him by pushing him off the cliff. As this while, I wondered. Did it hurt as he fell? Did he feel like flying? What was he thinking about? Was it about me? When did he stop feeling?

But now? Standing here at his grave with a portable radio in my hand, I can't stop myself from crying. 3 years since he's been gone. 3 years without him. I've survived for 3 years. I knelt down and placed the portable radio on his grave.

Unlike me, he always like love songs. I don't know if he did it on purpose but he would always turn on the radio and keep me from turning it off. In between my tears, I smiled as I pictured him in my mind.

I turned on the radio and did what I did every year, listen to love song in his remembrance. I don't know if I'm able to turn it off now. Turning the radio off is like I'm ready to remove him from my life and I'm not ready for that.

I'm clinging on to him because we've never broken up. I've never fell out of love and I don't think he did. I reread the lines printed on his grave, lines that are etched into my brain. In the loving memory of Randy Gwilym Fitzgerald. From 18 September 1997-13 February 2014.

He'll never turn 20. He'll never have a hard time choosing his career because he never made it there. He'll never get married or experience they joy of having a child. He won't experience adulthood. But I will, I have.

"Hey Ran. It's me. Do you remember me? It has been a tough year for me. I don't know about you but how's life there?" I asked, imagining myself talking to him. "I miss you a lot. I haven't move on from you and I don't think I ever will."

I sigh and reached out to turn off the radio, hesistating a moment. "I'm sorry for not stopping you." I said, my voice cracking. "If I had just, just, stopped you. N-none of this w-would have happened."

I wiped the tears from my eyes using the sweater I was wearing. "I love you. I don't know if you still love me but I will always love you, Ran."

I took the radio and stood up, sighing. I turned to walk away but then someone called me. Someone familiar.

"Hey Layla. Fancy seeing you here. I'm Tyler, Randy's best friend." he said extending his hand.

And just like that, starting from there, I fell in love again. I'm sorry Randy for loving someone else but I hope you don't mind.