i guess i just never learn

its like putting a spiked ball in where your heart is supposed to be, but i guess youre just going to have to do it. seal off your heart from everyone in the world. no one can hurt you this way. its better like this. just seal it away and learn from the past, because it is painful isnt it? unrequited feelings. seal it away until the right one comes. another lesson learned.

at 1:07 am

the closest thing to living, is when you're dying

script #2

            “This is the worst…sai te.” It just courses through his mind and out his lips right under his breath. Nothing he can really do about it. There, at the beach, looking through the vast expanse of finely ground stones and crushing blue waters. He found no beauty.

 

            “What’s that mean?” Her inquiry out of impatience. The silence they shared annoyed, bothered, hurt her.

“Need to break the silence.” She thought.

 

            “It means ‘the worst’ in Japanese.” Curt. As usual, the icy demeanor he wore as the day tired him, as the world annoyed him. Moody. As usual.

 

Silence. He thought in his head, “Are you uncomfortable? Is the silence bothering you?” “Yes, it is”

“Silence is golden, you should embrace it. Never was anything wrong with silence.”

 

A small conversation that never took place but only in his head. Never said anything to her. Instead, what came out was, “Is this what it’s like after two years? We run out of things to say?”

 

“I don’t know………” her face turned toward the horizon. She didn’t want to meet his eyes.

 

They both just watch the vast expanse of finely ground stones and crushing blue waters.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

real gangsta shix

“Are you prepared?”

 

Cold chills, clammy hands, of course I’m not prepared, what are you, some sort of dunce?

 

“Yeah.”

 

“After this, there’s no turning back, you will be one of us. This is the last step, are you sure that you can do it?”

 

Well, when you put it like that, how am I supposed to feel good? You’re not helping at all, I swear you are senile. Asking stupid questions right before this. I suppose I’m not supposed to succeed now am I? Why don’t you go play some pocket pool, you look like you need it.

 

“Yeah. I think.”

 

“You think, you think? No, there is no time to think, there is no time to second guess, you have to be sure, you have to be positive, you have to succeed, there is no time for you to simply think right now, it is going down there is no time to simply sit there on you ass and just simply thin-“

 

“Okay! Okay! I got it, I can do it okay? I can do it.” Great now I need to grit my teeth and simply…

 

“Here, it was suggested that I give this to you. Don’t think.”

 

What is this? A Beretta? You know I hate Berettas, can’t you have given me a Glock or a USP? Even a Kahr would’ve been better. You know I hate Berettas. You know…

 

Click.  He checked the magazine. Fully loaded, good. Click. Pulled on the slide, smooth action. Click. Cocked the hammer, he’s ready. Click. Safety’s off, no turning back now.

 

In the window, my eyes met his briefly, it was a strange feeling. I had seen those eyes somewhere before. It was almost as if I were looking at a corpse. The living dead some call it. The cats ran away. Sixth sense? Perhaps.

 

Click. That was a lighter. I hope you know smoking is not a healthy habit. It’ll kill you. Well, you haven’t much long to live anyway.

 

Click. The door opened.

 

“Hi there, you’re a dead man now.”

 

Click. Bang, bang.

My eyes met his briefly once again in the window and I knew, he and I were one and the same. You know I hate Berettas. How did they know? How did they know? “Don’t think.” Was it like that?

2 after 10 am

It was like any other day; any other rainy day, just pouring down upon us. Pouring down upon the windows making small patterns alternating between large and small droplets, pouring upon the black asphalt, slicking up that road and beating it like tribal drums in this concrete jungle. The rain poured down and hard, falling freely bound by absolutely nothing, making splatters and spectacular puddles everywhere. And at that instant, the door bell jingled and she walked in, punctual as always, 10:02 a.m. predictable as always. Dries her black, closed toed, pointy stilettos on the welcome mat, four complete shuffles on each foot, then moves on to brush off the excess water on her wrinkle proof black slacks, five light pats, and finally a swipe on each her arms on the grey black pinstriped blazer using only two fingers to run off the water; eccentric as always. She always ordered the same thing, extra large House Blend, light sugar and three pumps of Irish Cream, cash in hand no receipt thank you very much, always. A wipe of the chair, wipe of the table, I think I’ll enjoy my coffee and window seat. Then a man of about twenty-three follows. Punctuality is no stranger to him either, 10:17 a.m. pushes the door open, water dripping off of his slate-grey windbreaker, makes a mess on the checkered linoleum floor. However, punctuality is his second constant. Some days, he walks in, standing and scanning the café, other days; he walks in restroom first coffee second. His drinks are also variable, though dependant on his mood. Happy days will be extra large French Extra Bold Roast with happy amounts of cream, rushed days will be regular decaf, no sugar, no cream, put it o the tab. Gloomy days will be House Special Cappuccino extra cream extra sugar, extra everything make it generous, appreciate it. Only twice have I seen him order the extra large House Blend, no customization. Strange, it has a kick to it, but not enough to make a sad person happy, but it’s boring enough to be unfitting for a happy person to keep his high, and it is inconvenient to be carried in a pinch. He had two tables and a booth that he would regular, a table in the middle drinking his French Extra Bold Roast, a booth with a cozy light back in the corner to sip upon the House Special Cappuccino, and the window seat directly across from miss eccentric sipping on his House Blend.

But you see, today was special.  At 10:17 a.m., he entered like he always did, door pushed open but this time, he took extra long to scan and walked out of the café, too frantic for a hurried business day. He came back in, a slightly dismayed look upon his face, but not sad enough to call for a House Special Cappuccino, extra everything. Instead he ordered an extra large House Blend, a rare sight, and took the seat next to the window, the only seat next to the window. He did not drink his coffee. Then a sudden movement, he had gotten out of his chair, coffee forgotten.

“You’re late today.”

“I know, traffic was really horrible and there was no parking.”

Feet scuffling across the welcome mat.

“No, I was just wondering where the nice attraction in the café might have gone. Rain looks especially bad today.”

“No kidding, I almost forgot my umbrella too. Were you waiting for me?”

Patting the pants and brushing the blazer.

“Yeah I was actually. You want to have coffee sometime?”

That café gets too many customers.