Fiction Writing is Fun/Painful

“I’m not coming back home, Dre,” she said to me through my iPhone. Her tone was deliberate and firm like a soldier giving orders. The words hit me from afar. A sniper shot to the heart. I wanted to protest. Give her a million more apologies for not being the man she married anymore. The one that had her trust, love, and admiration. A man that once treasured her as if she was a living diamond. Before the drinking and the poor decision making began. I wanted to tell her that I miss her, but I couldn’t. I held the phone to my ear, still trying to catch my breath.

The silence after her statement was enough to tell her she finally hit me where it hurts. That she was truly the winner in the end of the relationship race. She crossed the finish line weighed down by the mental damaged I caused while I carried the guilt, not quite ready to finish it, but trust and believe, it was finished.

No doubt about it. It was done. That was six years ago. I see your face on tv now and can’t help, but imagine a world where I took your dreams serious. A reality I created if I didn’t cheat and lose you.

Not being able to accept my failure, I turn off the tv as she was performing.

Goodbye, Olivia. Maybe I’ll do the right thing next life time ~

Life is imaginary in the eyes of an author

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