What is the point living, if I can't have you? I wonder about this question a lot this past week. The week you left. All I want is to hold you in my arms again, just to listen to your heart beat. Or to listen to your slow even breaths as you sleep. But that I cannot have any more. You're gone, left me all alone.
Why did you leave me? I often wonder as well. Was it something I did? Was it something I said? I don't know what I did wrong, why won't you tell me!?
The bottle of whisky fell from my hand as I reach for the knife. The knife was looking very inviting… all I needed to do was slide my wrist. The water would flow the blood out of my veins and I would die. It's strange, that thought does not give me any reaction. I do not care if I died or not… not any more… not since you left.
Anger welled inside of me and I angry slid my left wrist first before I slid my right, the knife fell from my hand into the bathtub where I was laying and the water turned red. Red?! My blood was flowing into the tub and still I did not care. I felt nothing, the alcohol and your departure has left me numb and I feel nothing…
The world is beginning to get darker and I close my eyes. My last thought is of you and when I open my eyes once more I see you. A smile is on my face as you run to me.
"What a stupid thing to do, Gerry," you whisper but I can hear your smile.
"I know, I'm sorry," I apologize. "I couldn't live without you."
We both look down and see my body laying in the bathtub filled with red water. "Apparently," she smiled and I turned to her and kiss her. We could now start our unlife together…
The End
31 March 2007