The Fool
It is rather ironic. It has been 5 months 5 days since they parted. And still he was hurting. Sure, it was a mutual parting, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. On the contrary it hurted like hell. It isn't the kind of pain that has your knickers and your internal organs twisting in knots. Nor is it those fuckin' icy daggers that pierce through the soft beating heart, relentless and without mercy.
Nor is it a tinge of bitterness or jealousy now that she is with someone else now.
No. It is something far worse. It is a dull, numbing ache in the nexus of his soul that throbs with each beat of his heart, rippling outwards with every breath that he takes, and in all the steps that he takes in a day, day after day after day after.
Being the naively noble fool that he was, he insisted on being by her side through out even after they parted. 'She've lost a lover,' said he. 'No reason for her to lose a best friend.' And thus by her side he stood, while suitors came a calling. He was by her side holding her when she was crying about the new men and how insensitive they were.
For every tear that she shedded for others, the pain was amplified tenfold for him. But he couldn't tell her that. 'I am her best friend,' said he. 'She has no one else. My pain is nothing compared to hers.'
He was just that kind of fool. Who didn't want to be like the rest of the herd, packing and leaving after the season was over. He refused to be selfish. That would be too easy. He HAD to be more than everyone else. He always opted for the harder and possibly more painful route. He wanted to prove that a relationship, on failing, can still remain on platonic terms. He wasn't sure if he was being brave or stupid. He just knew that he had to be there for her. Tell him anything otherwise and he'll just spit at you right in the face in the name of everything that is holy.
On the day she got attached, he was the first to know. She called him, full of glee and happiness, exuberant that she has found someone to share everything with.
He felt like he had lost her all over again. He allowed himself to wallow for about oh, a minute, before taking all that hurt and thrusting it down some remote part of his mind. 'The friendship is most important, nothing else matters.'
It wasn't long after that she called him again, in tears, because her new love wasn't the man she expected him to be. He felt like gloating of course, 'no one is more perfect for you that I am,' but that was a thought best kept to himself. And he played the role of confidante and best friend to perfection. She never suspected a thing. If he couldn't be the best boyfriend there was, he sure as hell could be the best ex-boyfriend there is.
He feels every tear, pain, and cry of despair and frustration from her as if it was his own. I can do this, he tells himself, everything I feel now is only temporary. It is a vicious cycle, the late night calls, the insufferable pain, until he is but a mere shadow of his former self.
It has been 5 months and 5 days and he too, have moved on, setting his sights on someone who makes his heart flutter, even if it's only by a little. By even moving on is difficult, he has nailed a fragment of his core on her door, and trying to break free is tantamount to prying himself out with a knife. Either way it wasn't going to be pretty. But he was determined to make it work anyway. I will break free without breaking what we have between us.
He was always such a stubborn fool.
Nor is it a tinge of bitterness or jealousy now that she is with someone else now.
No. It is something far worse. It is a dull, numbing ache in the nexus of his soul that throbs with each beat of his heart, rippling outwards with every breath that he takes, and in all the steps that he takes in a day, day after day after day after.
Being the naively noble fool that he was, he insisted on being by her side through out even after they parted. 'She've lost a lover,' said he. 'No reason for her to lose a best friend.' And thus by her side he stood, while suitors came a calling. He was by her side holding her when she was crying about the new men and how insensitive they were.
For every tear that she shedded for others, the pain was amplified tenfold for him. But he couldn't tell her that. 'I am her best friend,' said he. 'She has no one else. My pain is nothing compared to hers.'
He was just that kind of fool. Who didn't want to be like the rest of the herd, packing and leaving after the season was over. He refused to be selfish. That would be too easy. He HAD to be more than everyone else. He always opted for the harder and possibly more painful route. He wanted to prove that a relationship, on failing, can still remain on platonic terms. He wasn't sure if he was being brave or stupid. He just knew that he had to be there for her. Tell him anything otherwise and he'll just spit at you right in the face in the name of everything that is holy.
On the day she got attached, he was the first to know. She called him, full of glee and happiness, exuberant that she has found someone to share everything with.
He felt like he had lost her all over again. He allowed himself to wallow for about oh, a minute, before taking all that hurt and thrusting it down some remote part of his mind. 'The friendship is most important, nothing else matters.'
It wasn't long after that she called him again, in tears, because her new love wasn't the man she expected him to be. He felt like gloating of course, 'no one is more perfect for you that I am,' but that was a thought best kept to himself. And he played the role of confidante and best friend to perfection. She never suspected a thing. If he couldn't be the best boyfriend there was, he sure as hell could be the best ex-boyfriend there is.
He feels every tear, pain, and cry of despair and frustration from her as if it was his own. I can do this, he tells himself, everything I feel now is only temporary. It is a vicious cycle, the late night calls, the insufferable pain, until he is but a mere shadow of his former self.
It has been 5 months and 5 days and he too, have moved on, setting his sights on someone who makes his heart flutter, even if it's only by a little. By even moving on is difficult, he has nailed a fragment of his core on her door, and trying to break free is tantamount to prying himself out with a knife. Either way it wasn't going to be pretty. But he was determined to make it work anyway. I will break free without breaking what we have between us.
He was always such a stubborn fool.
posted by Elessar Avenflame | 2:34 am
Am I that fool?
Can I afford to be that fool...again?
I wish I knew.
Nicely written.