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|To love or not to love (standard:other, 658 words)|
|Author: Anonymous||Added: Jun 07 2016||Views/Reads: 1131/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|You don't know what's to happen. You only know your story starts with you waking up one morning, and as time passes, it will blend with other people's stories.|
He woke up in this morning, looked around him and all he could see was this empty really small room, with a single bed in which he was laying. The only door leading to outside the room was made of metal and had a small peephole. The tiny window had bars, and the walls and the cement floor were dirty. He tried to remember whatever happened before the very moment he woke up that day. He recalled how he returned home the day before, after his dad's call, and found himself surrounded by cops. They searched his house for drugs, took him at the station and few hours later, at like 3AM, he was breathing jail air. But what led to all these events? This question was constantly humbling in his head, as he was trying to recall more and more from his past. Those three months before the event he woke up into, he could remember that he was constantly high. He used to come home like only once or twice in a week, he would sleep at friends or lose nights on the streets high as he could, selling drugs like there was no tomorrow. If he only knew. But why all that? Three and a half years before, he met this girl, and they've been together for almost three years. She changed his life, his mind, she grew flowers in his soul, she planted a natural smile on his face, and when they broke up, he grew himself plants in his pockets and built a chemical smile instead. God how he missed her, and only he knew how hard it was to stay sober, struggling with the pain he felt after the breakup. So he decided to erase his whole memory, using drugs to forget everything that bond him to reality. He built a whole new universe in which he didn't feel the urge for her love, her presence. They were occasionally meeting on the street and she was dying inside as she saw him he was dying on the outside trying to kill his mind. But he didn't care anymore. About anything at all. "You fucked me up" he once said to himself, "but you did a terrible job. It's my turn to finish what you started". Now he was able to see how right he was, as he was laying there, in that bed, inside the small jail cell. There was this guy who struggled hard to earn for a living. His job was really unpleasant and dangerous too. But it was worth it, as he had a wife that he loved and he would've done anything for her. One morning he woke up late for work, rushed to check in for his lap, dressed in his uniform and went for a routine check. As he opened the door at cell number 6, he went down in his boots. The mattress was ripped, a thin piece of material was missing from it, and he recognized the same type of material knotted to the window bars and around a youngster's neck. He went to report the event to the other shift. The other cop was just standing there, with a piece of paper in his hand. "He didn't eat, drank no water, he only asked for some paper and a pen. Here, this is what's left" he said. "I loved her. It took me a whole lot of time to realize that my life's pointless from now on, as it was since we broke up. Whoever's reading this, if you love someone, do anything you can for that person. We're all born with half a soul, with the other's name on it. On my piece of soul, her name's written in pure blood and death now. Tears won't help. Drugs won't help. You can't drink this pain away. I only have one option left. For you, there are two. Love, or see you later." Tweet
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