I was right

Love is a nuisance. You pay for their food one night. You pay for gifts the next. Then you pay for the apartment a month later. Magically, they put expectations on you. You fight every night trying to make up, but their expectations never change. So now your time is wasted. Your money is lost and the person you love won’t come back.

Now you are back where you started, replaying the same game. But will you make the same mistake and die all over again? Probably because that is what life is. Dying over and over to restart once again.

That is why I’m at this park sitting on this metal bench watching as people walk by— prepared to die once again. My hands rest on my lap. A sliver of skin by my fingernail caught my attention. I started picking at it gently at first but the motion quickly turned to disarray. I tore at it even after the sting has set. What did I do to deserve this?

Her heels clicked on the cement; My heart beat faster with every step she took. Every pair of eyes moved where she moved. The breeze gently swept her hair back. Her autumn-colored dress moved ever so slightly in the wind.

I looked down at my hands. I was unable to look up. The only sight was my skin peeling, little by little.

She is going to kill me. The blood came easily. Completely still. No dripping. No pain. Just red surrounding the sides of my finger. But I never stopped picking.

She is going to rip my heart out and spit on it.

My breath hitched. It’s time for me to die. I felt the shadow of her figure as she stepped in front of me.

“Babe,” She put her hand on my chin and tilted it up. Her golden eyes locked onto mine. Oh god, her eyes. My whole universe is in those eyes. Those eyes are going to be my demise, “We need to talk.”

I hate, We need to talk, every end of a life, that was the sentence that started it.

The trees gave us a canopy of shadows protecting us from the sun who was glaring down at us.

“Care to sit.” I gestured to the bench.

She sat ever so gracefully next to me.

She sighed as if she was holding it in for a lifetime. Spending time with me felt like a lifetime to her. She was sick of me.

“Are we going to start or what?” I say. She’s going to kill me. She will shred my skin, slowly, piece by piece.

“After thinking and talking to some friends…” Her voice sounded hoarse as she delayed saying it. I want her to say it. I need her to say it. Say it. Say it. Say it. SAY IT.

“Just tell me you want to end it,” I told her. Sick of waiting for the words to exit her mouth. Kill me.

“No, No, That isn’t what I was going to-”

“You invited me to a park we never go to.” My voice started with control. Anger slowly rolling over me, “You say we need to talk.” That was it. I had no control. “So talk to me! Tell me you want to leave me!”, I raised my voice without realizing.

I didn’t mean to. I didn't want to draw attention to us. She just didn’t do what she was going to. She didn’t end it like I knew she wanted. I am helping her.

“Daniel, You don’t know anything!” She yelled. She never yelled. “You are so insecure that I have to constantly remind you that I love you. You need to get therapy! I am sick of being your person to talk to about your issues.” That is what a relationship is; talking to each other about issues. She doesn’t know what a relationship means. “When was the last time we talked about me? When was the last time you asked how I was!?”

The rim of her eyes was filled with water. But the tears never fell. She stopped them from falling. She doesn’t want me to see her. She doesn’t want me to see her vulnerable.

She doesn't trust me. Has she ever trusted me? Does she have trust issues that I was unaware of?

What was the question again? When was the last time I asked how she was? Was that it?

If that is what she asked then the answer is I didn’t have the opportunity to ask. She always asked me first.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“What is my favorite food?” She asked.

“I don’t know,”

“What is my favorite color?”

“I don’t know,”

“What is my mother's name?”

“I don’t know!” I yelled.

Does she know my favorite food? Yes, She does. We ate it on my birthday last month.

Does she know my favorite color? Yes, She does. She always bought clothes for me in that color.

Does she know my mother's name? Yes, She does. She sends gifts to my mom every time we travel.

Does she… know me? More than anyone in the world.

Do I know her? I don’t know.

What do I know? I know I love her. What more does she need from me than love? Love is all I need, that’s what she said to me on our third date. But that was obviously a lie because if it was the truth then we would've never been in this position.

“My mother passed away last year…and you don’t know her name?” The tear fell on her cheek. She couldn’t stop it from falling.

Ah yes. I remember then, she didn’t see me for months after the funeral. She was too caught up with herself to care about me.

“Her name was Lily.” She said, “My favorite color is peach. My favorite food is pasta but only with red sauce. I hate Alfredo.”

I remember now. I remember when she told me her favorite things; I never thought to memorize them.

Was she so unimportant to me that I never thought to remember them? No, no, no, that’s wrong. She is my life. I dedicated myself to her.

She stood from the bench and looked down at me clutching her bag.

“I didn’t want this. You were everything to me. I always made excuses for you. But I guess you were right at the end. I am going to end it today just as you said." She tried sounding confident but I could hear the slight quiver in her voice. "Goodbye, Daniel.” Her mouth gave a slight smile before she turned to walk away.

The sound of her heels slowly turning into silence. Along with everything else.

I never meant to blame Anne for our problems.

But she was the only one to blame. There was no one else involved besides her and I.

I put my hands on the cold metal pushing me up until I balanced myself on the rocks of the concrete. I put one foot in front of the other, walking ever so slowly. I should be hearing the rustling of trees, the chatter of people, the sounds of cars but I could not hear anything.

It was silent to me. Everything was moving at the pace it has always been but it felt like a race. Like life is going by in a blink of an eye and if I don't catch up I'll be left behind. Was it always like this?

I did not see them. I did not hear them. I only felt the bump on my shoulder as we walked opposite directions. I felt the anger rolling over me as I looked at the woman. Her hair was tied up, her eyes wandering on my chest to the place we collided.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked her, "Can you look where your fucking going?!"

"I'm...I'm sorry" She said but she did not seem genuine. They never seem genuine.

"Can you at least look like you meant it!?" I shouted. I took her arm gripping on it with half my strength. I deserve this. I deserve the right to scream, to be hurt. Why did she do this to me? My thoughts turned into a maze, each turn was a dead end.

It could not have been me. She was the one to end this. She was the one who started this battle between her and I. She was the problem.

"Can I please leave...." The tears started to swell on the rim of her eyes. She tried to get her arm free from my grasp but I only held it tighter. Why did I hold it tighter?

Because I am the victim of the cruelty of the woman in front of me. I am the one who was hit. I am the one who has the right to get angry but what rights does she have?

Nothing. She was the perpetrator of this rigged game of love. She was the problem. She is the problem! I did what I could. I did everything in my power to follow the rules of the game. But why is it that I lose every time I play?

I look at the woman in front of me. She isn't her. She is just a woman walking at the park who was unlucky enough to nudge me on the shoulder. The fear in the woman's eyes as she looks at me waiting for me to harm her, penetrates me.

Oh. I am hurting her. But didn't she expect this to happen? Isn't this is the consequences of her own actions?

Yes, I am in the right. I am right. I am right. I am right. I AM RIGHT.

I am...right?

If I am right then why do I feel like a weight is on my heart pulling me down with every breath I take. Why do I feel with every second I'm alive someone else is breaking under the pressure. Why can't I stop feeling like every word I say is a ripple of pain I can't stop causing.

My hand felt empty as I let go of her. She just looked at me the tear build up in her eyes starting to vanish.

"Asshole." Her finally word before she turned away from me. Fastening her steps as if I might harm her.

No, it is not my fault. I didn't do anything wrong. People just seek to blame me because they could not blame themselves.

I loved her. I stayed for her. I played for her. I did everything right, I followed the rules of the game. But when is it my turn to win? I tried everything I could to make our relationship alive. Nothing is ever enough.

I am always bound to fail. I told myself I tried. I told myself she was the problem with every issue our relationship faced. But if that is true why am I the only one standing in the aftermath? The ability to move forward, impossible with every new person who loves me. Wreck upon wreck piled up until I am now unable to move.

Perhaps I never tried at all.

I never tried to move on. I never tried to clean up the wreckage of the past. I am always the same.

But I always prioritized her. I never disrespected her. That is what I would say if I did not know that it was a lie.

I never put her in the center of my world. I disrespected her in every way I could. I used her as a scapegoat for my own problems.

I lost her by not having interest in her, by not learning about her, and by not loving her the way she deserves.

But what did she deserve? What did she want from me so tediously that she had to leave me?

I'm asking myself as if it is an impossible question to answer. But it comes down to the basics. It is what everyone wants. It is what I want.

She wants someone to ask her about her day. She wants someone to prioritize her more than themselves. She wants someone to be there for her even if she's in a wreckage. She wants someone to... know her.

It's time to come to the conclusion that I was never that person. I was never her dream of a man. I was only me. Me. Who is so caught up with himself to notice when the person he loves is grieving. Perhaps I never tried at all.

Oh. I get it.

It was me.

I am killing myself in every round of this game. I am the one restarting it whenever someone puts the blame on me.

I am the one who doesn’t understand what relationships mean. I am the one...who needs help.