Drew were a boy with an empty mind. He spent most of his day searching through Google, trying to find a result he could relate to. He never felt lonely. Or at least he didn’t want to.
But the leak inside his heart, came out as steamy waves. One foot in front of the other, he never walked with purpose. Only waiting, for a chance to change. But that change, would not come as he nor his family expected it.


1. What I didn't know

My town is carved out in a simple manner; grey houses, big roads, more houses. The lights from the lamp-posts leave a dewy warm silhouette, for every other lamp. If you even notice it, really. And I bet no one does.

I spend most of my childhood here. It was a safety under me, yet I always had this feeling of being trapped. Wanting to see more. Explore. I would build colourful landscapes with those shiny plastic-bricks, only to find myself in a need for more bricks. So I would ask for more. More, more more. My colourful imagination, would not abandon to the limits of my mothers leather wallet. And I know, it was silly. But really, how could you judge me?

Sometimes I just sit in the room, and look out on the people. They have busy lives it seems. Some days  I see women, with thick coats and long hair, walking the muddy pavements, pushing perambulators proudly high on life and love. Other days, the street is clustered with old men, walking purposefully to destinations unknown to my knowledge. I just wonder. And as the hours go by, the house starts to get colder, and I like to think it’s just the weather, that I can just wait for it to get a little warmer. Then I forget and move on to whatever things I need to do that day.

It were a shame to move in again. And the look on their eyes, when I told them it didn’t last.

“We were heading in different directions, you know? She had her own visions of a future, and I had mine.” I wonder if they could spot the fragile in my voice, as I leaned against my bedroom wall, trying to portray an image of strength.  I know they couldn’t. Because they knew it all over.

The story is simple. Her name was Anna. The love of my life. My first soft kiss in a swirl of rain, my first cinema holding hands in secrecy, my first smile, my first bed with rose petals, my first looking through the keyholes in the corridor, and my first brown-haired angel. Until we faded. We had just moved in, our first little home. A white apartment, with big fluffy carpets. It had been two weeks. Two weeks! Tuesday. She is out buying groceries. Her phone keeps dimming. So I picked it up, purely out of naive nosiness. My chest became hollow, as I realize the little tragedy. 2 new messages. “Patric.”

“Sorry babe, but last night my phone was on fly-mode so I didn’t get your messages. what’s up?”

“:-* Is he still asleep?”

This could not be real. Something’s not right! The anger and confusion burned in my veins, and clustered my mind, till all I could do is run. Who the hell did she think she was? I stormed out the door, jump down the stairs, passed a bunch of strangers looking at me, with such a horror as though they think the world is at the breaking point.  As I face her in the grocery store, all I know is I’m breaking. Screaming, acting out. I felt like an animal, wildly terrorizing a city in order. When in reality, I’m just a man, with a dream cut right open. The unawareness stings.


Like a diamond, love is shiny. But when it breaks, it becomes a weapon you can cut yourself upon.


That’s why I’m back again. Sitting in my teenage bedroom, like the loser I am. The posters on the wall, the scent in the air. I know I shouldn’t be here. I should be out there, doing something purposefully as the adult man I am. But instead, I look at myself in the mirror and drink cheap coffee, brewed on my mother’s old coffee machine from 1998. Man, it sucks to be me.

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