Occasionally, I like to write some fiction and, unlike my work projects, I have a tendency to never finish anything I start writing. Instead of keeping those scribbles in a dark corner of my hard drive, I put them down here, in the hopes of it inspiring someone else to write something.
I heard a girl speak with a voice like hers. I walked to the window, to see into the dark of my street, to see if it was her. Of course it wasn’t. Just some drunken girl talking to a guy while they walked hand in hand to their final destination for the night. I still helt out hope that she would come running to me one day. That she would ring my doorbell and she would suddenly be standing in my living room. Sitting on my couch. Lounging in my bedroom, laying in my bed. Next to me.
She was lit up with ecstasy when we saw each other again after almost a year had passed. She was studying in Cambridge, I had been working in London. Not that those places were so far apart, but for some reason we never got to actually set a date and meet up before.
The week before I had finally texted her "Dinner. Friday 9pm. Your town." She replied simply with “Statue in front of train station.” We had learned to be so short and direct with each other over the two years we spent together in secondary school. We never really texted with each other like you normally do. For some reason it felt wrong to say more than a few words in a fashion that was not face to face. We never said more than "At school?" or "Coffee, 3pm?" in our texts.
I didn't have to look for long while walking out of the station. She had noticed me before I had even seen her, hugging me tightly with one arm, while holding her bicycle with the other. "Oh, Thomas," she said with a serious tone. She started smiling, "I've got so much to tell you!"
"There was this experiment one time; some scientists took a bunch of monkeys and locked them in a room. And in this room, they had tied a rope to the ceiling and let it dangle down to the floor. And at the top of the rope they had tied a bunch of bananas. Well, any time one of the monkeys would try to climb the rope to get the bananas, they'd blast them all with a firehose! After a few rounds of this, any time one of the monkeys tried to climb the rope, the rest would start beating the hell out of it. Pretty soon, none of the monkeys even tried to climb the rope, let alone get the bananas. Then, they started to replace the monkeys one by one; a new one would come in, try to climb the rope, get the hell beaten out of it, and give up. After a few rounds, it would start beating up the other monkeys if they tried to climb the rope. Pretty soon, the scientists had replaced all of the original monkeys; none of them had been firehosed but still, whenever one tried to climb the rope, the rest would beat the hell out of it. Why? Because that's the way that things had always been...."
G.R. Stephenson, 5 Monkeys and a Ladder
The distinct feeling of losing someone, in any number of ways, but especially losing them due to single-sided love, I experienced as such a painful process that I unconsciously decided not to bind myself to someone, not to take a chance for the greater good.
I screwed myself by doing that, over and over again.
Enchanted spirits come to say,
What they think of the weather today.
The one likes rain, the other not,
The third sits alone and says it's too hot.