A Walk.

We walked together down snow covered streets; her arm snugly fit into mine like a jigsaw puzzle, 
and although I had no reason to feel so, I was happy. It was somewhere around midnight, and all 
that kept us from complete solitude was an eerie yellow glow from the occasional street light. 
She looked up at me and smiled; her cheeks were red from the cold, and she looked so young and 
innocent —- just like when I first met her. I was completely hypnotized by those warm brown eyes; 
they consumed me with their overwhelming intensity. They seemed to bear an ominous weight I had 
never seen before. And at that moment a car sliced through the pure, naked snow —- raping the 
serene night with exhaust fumes and the drone of bass. From that point on, nothing was ever the 
same again.

I’d spent the last two nights anticipating my evening with her; chasing thick waves of water 
with pills to sleep through the anxiety. Something told me that tonight would define the way 
I was going to live the rest of my life —- but in a way every night does. Every time I cut myself 
shaving and the blood mixes with foamy water in my sink I think about dying, and how meaningless 
I tell myself it all is. Diapers, to razor blades, and then back to diapers again. In a way I’d 
rather die with a blade in my hand, than be found in a bed somewhere; emaciated by time, wilting 
inwardly —- product of a perpetual state of wait. 

Nevertheless, we stomped together through the whiteness, leaving behind a trail of meaningless 
small-talk, laughs and smiles. She talked about music and a movie she’d seen with a friend, and 
I —- I didn’t. I was far too blind and content to offer my words; she went on about the new boys 
she’d met, and I hid the jealousy behind stone. Mark was pretty good-looking when he kept his 
mouth shut, but David, on the other hand, was one hell of a loser. At least he packed cash in 
his wallet, she said. 

A harsh wind tore all the way through my thick winter clothes and electrified me to the bone, 
as the snow started to pick up again. She started to shiver, nuzzled herself up against me, and 
I instinctively hugged her more tightly than ever. I could feel the wind pulling her hair across 
my face scraping against my nose; it smelled like... a thousand fucked up memories and feelings 
rolled into bite-sized balls of rat poison coated in a deceptively sweet candy shell. 

And then she turned around and whispered in my ear, that she didn't love me anymore.