The Following Night

The idea vanished with landing. Excuses piled up and when responses came they were far and few between. The idea of plane love as he would title this part of his life is an ironic name for it can be held to make two meaning for his view of the trip. A plane much like it can only stay up in the air for only a limited period of time his idea of friendship with her only lasted just as long. He is pissed at himself for believing in the lies she told him he is pissed at himself for falling for the same trick twice. He is pissed and being pissed doesn't help him fall asleep. Do you know much he wants to throw his computer out the window closest to him? Have you come to understand the confusion of the word "again"? Yes, twice he had fallen for this same fated trick twice.

With his current state of mind everything is chaos just as quickly he feels pissed he feels pity. If he had to best define these situations he would say he viewed them both as sisters. It's because they lie and cheat him he views them as such but he also viewed as them as such before the truth.

He himself suffered from social anxiety his whole life and has always wanted to stop others from suffering from the same fate. A trait he hasn't lost only suppressed. He still over thinks everything and his emotions are still in complete disarray. It's why he feels so much pain right now, why the anger he feels turns to pity so quickly. He is an author and the infinite number of possibilities run through his head in a single moment.

As the night comes to pass he finds himself apologizing for something he knows he was right on. Why does he torture himself? Why does he cause himself this everlasting pain? Why is he chasing an illusion that he wants to rid himself of? Why? Why? Why?

*Crash*

In one fluid motion, he throws his phone into the ground as it shatters into pieces. He would follow this with a blood curdling scream but he knew this not to be the place. In confusion, he tightly grips his hair almost pulling it out while he falls to the ground.

Mumbling to himself he repeats the single word, "Why?"

Not caring for the it being the dead of night he stands up and runs around the city of Rome.

"If this is what they define as the feeling of love, I would rather feel nothing my whole life. For if this so called magnificent feeling only brings one pain, my words of content are words of lies. For an unrequited love is a pain worse than moments before death."