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She looks at me with a look of disgust. Or is that just me, her husband’s eyes are looking at me, not hers. We’re on the beach now, and she smiles at me. She’s exhausted and so am I. We’re overlooking the ocean of Florianopolis now, hundreds of ships flat on the sunset horizon. I want to kiss her, I want to feel her warmth as I slip my hands around her. She’s beautiful, she’s more beautiful on the inside really. I know I have to make a choice but it’s hard. I want to just stay here on this beach forever, get a boat and just live life as the tide comes in. She looks at me again.
“Yes?” I ask her, coming off more rude than I seem to be.
She says it quietly.
“Huh?”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
I look back out towards the sun kissed horizon. “Don’t thank me. Just get on the plane when it comes.”
She nods and I somehow feel like screaming. What a schmuck I really am! What a c*nt. Somehow when it comes down to choice, you’re always supposed to make the right one. I turn to face her, she flits her eyes at me like she’s been expecting this.
I feel that lump in my throat, my stomach goes weak. And even though I’ve just leapt through death and beyond to save her, this feels harder than anything I’ve had to do in the last 72 hours. I’ve taken gunshots that hurt less than this.
This is love. Love hurts more than a bullet. Now I knew what Shakespeare was always babbling on about. She comes closer to me, I know this is wrong, anybody in this situation would feel the same way. You know kissing your best friend’s girl is wrong, you know stealing that magazine from the shop is wrong, and you know f*cking somebody you feel nothing for is wrong, but you do it anyway. You do it because you feel lonely and you just want one iota of what that person has. Maybe that was the reason I loved her, maybe it wasn’t. But I was always a c*nt, and what do c*nts like myself do? She leans in for a kiss, she doesn’t care.
I turn back to the horizon.
“Just go back to the room, the plane will be here soon.”
I can feel those eyes full of hatred glaring at me. You bastard screamed the voices of every girl I’d ever been with. Every flawed relationship, every argumentative bust-up.
That’s the problem with life. There is only two types of people in this world; selfish and selfless. Unfortunately the selfish people seem to reap the rewards more. I wanted her to be my reward, but somehow I just couldn’t stand to do the wrong thing. She walks away and you can tell she’s ready to explode. She’s calculating, her husband didn’t come all this way to save her, I did. I did so with no remorse or fear but when it came down to saving her, she expected I did it out of love. I did, but that doesn’t make it right.
Why do all the bastards in this world flourish like flowers?
I asked myself that question as I slumped onto the wall, a frail Chinese woman staring at me with curious eyes. She squints at me and continues to walk on. The plane wouldn’t be here for another few hours, until then that woman was up there angry as f*ck, expecting me to kiss her. My head raged within itself; a psychlogical war. She wants to, nah she don’t. Bring out the heavy duty reasoning! We need cover in the denial stage! Madness all! Abandon ship, drool functions! Gah!
The sun set half an hour later and I was still sat on that wall. Still letting that war rage on in my head. Do I go up? Sir, we’ve got a crack commando team of mental blockage ready to take common sense, you ready sir? Negative! We’ve already got the mother of all bombs of L-O-V-E inbound.
Ah god my head was too focused on the events of before. I could only think in humorous metaphors. I hate my life, why couldn’t I just be a selfish bastard? Why couldn’t the good guys win for once?
This post has been edited by Ziggy455 on Saturday, May 19 2012, 10:54
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