“Why do some girls get everything, and others get nothing. Why do books always have romance in them that will never happen, and why do we keep reading them when we know that it will never happen. Why do we keep chasing it? Why am I so pathetic?”

He looked into her eyes. They were turning darker as tears threatened to flow; she looked so pathetic sitting there alone. She was holding her knees and her head rested on them. He didn’t know what to say. What was one suppose to say when someone doubted you, and that someone was the someone you loved?

“Why am I telling you all this?” she continued, “You are the one that is the stupid cause of this. Okay, that’s not the truth. I’m the one bringing this on myself, I’m the one who can’t be happy with what I’m suppose to have, I always want more. I’m so stupid. I’m hooked on something that doesn’t exist and people enjoy reeling me in then tossing me back.”

He couldn’t understand why she was doing this to herself. What was wrong, and why couldn’t he say something that could stop her and make her feel better and see the light? What was wrong with him? It was his bloody job to talk, and he couldn’t think of a single word to say.

One tear softly rolled down her face. Everything inside of her finally came out in that one single tear. He looked at her and watched the little drop run down her face. Behind it, it left all of her untold stories. All of her secrets, all of her sorrows, all of her happiness, all of her life. Everything was in that tear drop and it nearly killed him. Here she was putting herself out there to him fully for the first time and all he could do was watch as the drop fell onto her sleeve and left a little mark. A mark that would eventually dry and be forgotten about in the grand scheme of things, but he knew it would never be forgotten by him.

She buried her head into her arms and took a deep breath. It wasn’t a heave that meant a torrent of tears was coming, but a breath, a breath she took, one she had to take or she was going to go off the deep end. If she didn’t she was going to forget to breathe, and forget about everything. She would stay locked in her misery and she knew nothing would ever come out of that.

She had told him how she felt, and he had done nothing. He sat there and just stared. She was humiliated. He didn’t know how hard that was for her, she had told him everything that she had never told anyone, and nothing had happened. What did she expect to happen? She knew he was going to say nothing. No one understood, and no one ever could. Everyone else was smart and knew what was going on. She on the other hand didn’t. She didn’t even remember what light was. She couldn’t remember what it meant to be completely and utterly happy. She knew what it was to be happy, but it was only for a time. It was a band aid or a drug. Something used to cover the pain and hide it away from the world, an addiction that couldn’t be stopped no matter how hard she tried. All around her were things that dragged her back in. Movies, music, people, everything and everywhere, she couldn’t get away from it. Love. An myth as old as the world. Many claimed to have it, but soon you see it isn’t the truth, because it isn’t enough to keep them together through a fight. One bad day and it’s a divorce.

Love, an excuse Hallmark made up to make money. A dream that got instilled into her mind until it was so much a part of her she needed it to survive and she would do anything to get it, but what filled a temporary void couldn’t fill a permanent one. That permanent one was one for true love. A love that would last forever, someone that she wouldn’t be able to live without. She thought she had filled it up many times, too many times to count, but they all turned out the same. Just a fantasy. And this was just the same. And just like every other time she had to pull it together and move on.

This time she didn’t think she had it in her, but she felt the same every other time too. She could do it, she had to do it.

She stood up and dragged her arm across the side of her face to eradicate the tear’s trail and what came with it. She avoided his eyes; she knew what they would be. They would be indescribable. He would be confused and then in a few seconds he would be mad. He would blow up on her and call her pathetic and needy and insane. Then she would get mad at him for not caring, and the giant cycle would begin yet again. A cycle she hated but constantly brought upon herself.

Surprisingly he said nothing. Before she walked out she took a tiny glance towards him. She saw confusion and emotion she had never seen before. She swore his brown eyes had need in them. She closed hers and mentally shook her head. She was genuinely pathetic. Why would he have need? Why would he still want her?

When she got up and didn’t look at him need poured through him. He knew he needed to say something. Something, anything at all. He needed to make it better for her, and for him. She took a little look at him then closed her eyes and walked away. The farther she went the more his heart tore. It wasn’t like in the books or the movies. His chest didn’t hurt; it felt like it always had, but his brain. It was a jumble, nothing was making sense and the harder he tried to think of something to say to stop her he could think of nothing. The only thing for sure he knew and could think of was the tear. That one profound moment in time had changed him more than he could have imagined. He had loved her before, he had known that, but until that tear it was still a physical thing. He realized that he hadn’t really known her, he had seen but hadn’t heard, and now she was gone.

She walked into her room and leaned against the door she had just closed. There was the part of her still waiting for him to come and knock on the door, tell her of his undying love for her and ask her to marry him. She laughed at the thought, she would say yes before she knew what he had really said and she would be stuck in a life she hated. The love would fade in a few months and they would be stuck together. They might have a kid, but that would make things worse and soon they’d be divorced and going on to other people.

Outside her room the front door to her apartment closed. Tears threatened to pour, and she didn’t even try to hold them back, but they made her feel worse. She picked up a picture of them together and threw it against the wall. The glass shattered, not like in the movies into a million little pieces, but big ugly shards that laughed at her. She couldn’t do anything right, not even take her anger out on a picture frame.

She walked over to where the frame had landed. She cradled a shard in her hand and thoughts went through her mind. She could end it right then and there, she would never have to worry about anything anymore and people could stop laughing at her and pitying her. They could go back to their lives before she had screwed it up. Soon she would be forgotten and nothing would matter.

The glass still hadn’t stopped laughing. She realized that committing suicide would put her onto a whole new low. She would be the laughing stock, not of a few like now, but of everyone. Word would spread and with each retelling she would be cast in a worse light than before.

When the glass wouldn’t shut up she crushed it in her fist. As the glass pierced her nerves and dug into her skin, she barely felt a thing. She knew what she was doing vaguely, but it wasn’t truly registering. The twinges of pain were felt, but they barely registered. She unfolded her hand and blood pooled out. It was the ultimate moment of pitiful. She curled up into a ball on the floor. Her bloody hand was cradled close to her heart and she fell asleep.

He sat on her couch for a few more minutes collecting thoughts. He walked over to her bedroom and stopped in front of the door. He raised his hand to knock, but it was stuck inches from her door. He couldn’t do anything. What was he going to do when she opened the door, if she even opened the door? He would probaly blurt out some profession of undying love, and even throw a proposal in there, but he laughed at the thought. She would probably slam the door in his face and never speak to him again.

He slid his hand down the door and rested his forehead against it. He had blown it. Again. He turned away and picked his jacket off the back of the chair. He didn’t even pause at her front door. He knew he could do nothing, and he should just go.