Pieces of fiction · Relationships

The three stages of falling apart

You walked into the room and it was full of people, but I didn’t see the people.

You shot me a cynical look and I already knew what you’re thinking.

It’s not our crowd, not the life we care to live, not the friendships we look to cultivate and not the atmosphere for people like us to thrive.

We knew this. We know this.

I wished it would always be the same entrance, always the same exchange of looks, and a few stolen minutes to whine about it.

We were strangers for a few hours that night, but I still looked at you for a sense of belonging.

I wrote about you long before I met you. That’s how much I felt I knew you.

We walked together into the room and it’s full of people, but all I see is them.

You grew guns for eyes and your glances- well, they were bullets that could rip through me even with my eyes closed.

We craved being among a crowd because being alone meant spending hours like they were agonizing years.

We didn’t care that we had phoney friendships as long as they saved us from each other’s company.

In public, we were whatever people wished to be. In private, we were everything we never wished to be.

The more we spoke, the less we listened to each other.

Space shrank. The distance grew.

Words between us felt like escaping blades. So, silence prevailed.

I never wrote about you as you were anymore. I created fantasy spin-offs where you weren’t a person I resented.

You walked into a place because we’re never in the same room anymore, and it was full of people. You were simply one of them.

You shot me a cynical look for old time’s sake, but I didn’t catch it. I couldn’t tell what you’re thinking.

It’s not our crowd and not the life we care to live but there we were: thriving. Each of us alone.

We knew this. We know this.

In public, we portrayed acceptance and civility. In private, we contemplated the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘why nots’.

Words between us were all shame, blame and suffocated hurt wrapped up in sweet greetings. But at least now we listen.

We walked into each other’s lives as strangers and as strangers, we’ve exited.

I look away from you to find a sense of belonging because you feel like the cold unknown.

I write about you but never to magnify your importance. Most times it’s simply to release you.

2 thoughts on “The three stages of falling apart

  1. This is the most impacting piece of writing I’ve read in years if not ever.
    It more than just speaks to the reader, it more than just paints a picture.
    I felt the writing, not as in feeling the characters’ emotions, while that is all depicted phenomenally as well, I felt the writing.
    Each word seemed heavy with a sort of rawness and vulnerability.
    Every word spoke to me and seemed purposeful and necessary.
    The concept is one that I would usually, and almost did this time as well, pass over as relationships/break ups are overdone topics but you, the author, brought me through the 3 stages of a relationship flawlessly. I experienced them through an out-of-body surreal sensation of floating above and behind the narrator looking at a room of an ever-changing crowd. I can’t figure out the correct word(s) to embody my experience.
    The point of view creates a calm resigned atmosphere that pulls at the heartstrings but not in a sad way, it is very bittersweet and comforting.
    Other readers: When you read (or reread) it let the writing read to you and listen instead free of thought.
    I am thoroughly impressed and inspired. Thank you so much for sharing!

    Liked by 1 person

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