Missed Calls

“Two shots to the back of the head can’t be as bad as the gallows or the guillotine. Or the racks or an axe to the neck. But there are more ways to die than at the hands of another in torture. You could die from something as simple as drowning or choking on food. It could’ve been an accident, like a car crash. Or even icy roads. It happens all the time. You don’t exactly get to die a great death. You don’t always get to be some big fucking hero. Sometimes, you have to play victim of something that isn’t desirable. But that’s death. You don’t exactly get to choose how to end your story. People write epilogues sometimes. Try to be worthy of one. Regardless of death, you have to live. So go live your life. I’ll be fine on my own.”
-Them

         Jesus fucking Christ, you were always so difficult. It was an exhausting six months. We were life and death, hell and heaven, liquid nitrogen and erupting volcanos, sin and salvation. We fought so fucking hard so fucking often. You were never happy and I was fucking miserable, but I loved you so much. It seemed like opposites attract and cancel each other. But I guess our flames were never put out.
         You must’ve been the color yellow-bold, cheerful, sunny, glowing, kind, beautiful, lively, and different. I must’ve been the color red-fiery, hateful, loving, strong, and loud. And we fought like we were the gods. We had to have argued at least once a day, and we must’ve hurt each other with our words deeper than our prides would’ve allowed us to communicate. You threw your lightning bolts down on me while I shook the earth with quakes that caused hurricanes and storm surges so powerful that even the depths of hell shook with the magnitude. But we must’ve loved each other like the world was gonna end and the stars were raining down just for us. Like every picture perfect sunset was placed in front of us to ignore, because we knew one another was more beautiful in every way.
         We were like fire. Destructive, blazing, passionate, deadly. We burned everything in our path. We burned ourselves out. We were a raging inferno. We left behind a wasteland of black and white scorched, charred remains, grey ashes covering the grounds, and terrified victims. We were violent, and we let the world be our playground til there was nothing left but an ugly, monochromatic mess and scared survivors. But damn, we were so fucking stunning. We were beautiful, and I loved you so much.
         We broke up in the spring. We were ravenous, dying embers begging for something else to devour in our flames and battling each other for the last of the oxygen and anything too weak to not be burned. Everything was new, but there was nothing for us. There were thunderstorms pouring water down on us, hurting us, putting us out. We were doused, and we fell out of love. Everything was growing and new, but we were dead and gone. So we said goodbye. Calmly. Cleanly. Probably the most civil thing we’ve ever done.
         That summer was a record. Everyone was getting dragged down from the heat. We had violent rainstorms with thunder that shook the walls and rattled windows. Our town flooded under two feet of rain, more in some areas. People drove off the roads from the water that filled every low area and drowned anything that couldn’t escape its strength. Sometimes it would rain steadily for days on end, and we would slip under the surface in sadness.
         That winter was a record, too. We had 100 days in a row where the temperatures would fall into the negatives at night. I was cold no matter what I did to try and stay warm. The wind howling at night screamed over my music as I tried to escape. Some days, it wouldn’t get above zero degrees and all of me felt numbed and hopeless. I felt lost. We also received a lot of snow. It was a bitter cold snow that whipped in your face and shoved cars into ditches with its force. Looking outside without the sun was bleak, staring outside was draining. Most days, I just wanted to sleep and nothing else but sleep.
         I think that we had something special, but I don’t think we’d ever have a real future. And I’m definitely sorry if I had ever wasted your time because you were such a worthwhile waste of mine. In all honesty, I feel like you were given to me at this time so I'd always know what it feels like to have lost something I should've tried harder to keep. Honestly, we never would've been compatible. You were like cigarettes for me. So painful, harmful, and negative, yet so addicting, beautiful, relaxing, and perfect. If we ever had another chance though, if you came to my door in say ten years, I'd have to say no. You were an enjoyable part of my past, but the past needs to stay behind me, and I need to move on. But I love you. I fucking love you. I loved you then, and I love you now, and I hope you know it.
        Goodbye.