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©2017 by GWEILO. Proudly created by Zoé Manset, Edouard Chardot, Céleste Judet, Logan de Raspide Ross, Sidney Jones.

Before I Fall To Pieces

December 27, 2017

 

He kicked open his bedroom door, and then locked it straight after. Passing his speakers, he hit the play button and turned the sound way up. He sat on the length of his bed and untied his shoes. He stopped in his tracks, suddenly aware of what song was playing. His eye twitched slightly. He was overcome by a feeling different from the anger and rage he’d been feeling, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His heart seemed to sink down into his stomach and his stomach down further.

"And what happened to the story that we wrote?"

He was frozen. He wanted to burst out and explode, yelling at the world, but he could not move an inch.

"But you say you don’t know what is feels like! So I’ll go, before I fall to pieces! Yes I’ll go, before I fall to pieces!"

His thoughts were sent suddenly, in a mist of pain and sorrow, to that night a few days back.

He was at a party, and he’d been eyeing a girl he fancied, but she’d not given him a single look of accord. He was growing impatient and sad, as all his attempts of getting with her so far had failed, and she showed no interest in him at all. Slowly as the night progressed he got sadder and sadder, growing depressed and useless.

"NOW I’M JUST WAITING FOR SOMETHING THAT MIGHT NEVER COME! IF IT’S A MILLION TO ONE CHANCE I’LL MEET SOMEONE!"

He sunk down into a chair and stayed there, empty eyed, gazing off. He got up violently and smashed his glass onto the ground. Kicked the chair. But then, that raw emotion faded, and he fell back into a chair next to the one he’d kicked over. He gazed sullenly at the ground before him. He glanced up, and there she was, talking with another man. He felt himself start to fall apart. He got up, said goodnight to his friends and left as the emotion was gathering in his throat.

"Yes, I’ll gooo! Before I fall to pieces!"

A little after he’d fallen to pieces, unfortunately. He jammed his earbuds into his ears and started running, away from the house, into the dark. The sound was cranked up as far as it would go, drowning out his dark and suicidal thoughts, losing himself in what he was listening to.

"And in her eyes, you see nothing. No sign of love behind the tears, cried for no one…"

He held in tears, and kept running, his legs growing sore as he ran up the hill. His breath got shorter, his eyes blurry, half because of the tears, half because of midnight’s dementia.

"You want her, you need her, and yet you don’t believe her when she says her love is dead, you think she needs you…"

He cried out a short, but sharp, painful cry, breaking the night’s dark quiet. In his mind, he keeps seeing her. In his mind, she watches over him. Her eyes pierce his heart, puncture his eyes and render him blind, blind to anything but her. In his mind, all he sees is her. In his mind, she is omnipresent. And the music plays on.

"Your day breaks, your mind aches, there will be times when all she said will fill your head; you won’t forget her."

As he nears the street, he sees the car’s headlights streak by. He doesn’t slow. He’s now practically there, he can distinguish through the music the roar of the car engines, speeding by. He doesn’t slow. His feet hit the asphalt road and a truck narrowly misses him. He makes it across the road and stops. A little disappointed. The music stops and he falls to the ground, exhausted and panting. Far off, thunder booms and it starts to rain. He feels his face and notices its wetness. His tears are lost within the rain and sweat, and dark clouds of sorrow simply loom above him, casting a shadow upon his being.

The song ends and he looks over to his speakers. Nothing follows. He falls backwards upon his bed, his shoes still tied upon his feet. Slowly, he chokes on his new but familiar tears, where no one can see or hear him, all alone in his world, still waiting on a sunny day to break through the clouds above him.

 

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