I Know it's My Mistake...
And it worked. He stopped smoking. So he wondered what else about his life he could change with this new found control. Be more honest? More caring? The possibilities were endless. But on the cusp of such potential greatness, reality reasserted itself.
That was when he got the invitation in the mail. A former obsession of his was getting married. A former obsessions of his that swore she would never, ever under any circumstances (unless The Smiths reunited and played the wedding) get married. It took him by surprise, yet it didn't. He had made this prophecy (that she would marry, but no, not to him) drenched in self-pity years before when he was more inclined to believe that the fates were out to screw him over. And he told her about it. And she laughed. And then he laughed. And that in theory was the end of it. Until now. Upon opening the invite he immediately jumped online to see if The Smiths had reunited.
No. No they had not.
There should have been a question in his mind. To go or not to go. To suffer the awkwardness of it all or to forever wonder what it would have been like to see such a thing. To be a firsthand witness to an event that would had shattered him years earlier or... Wait. There were no guarantees it wouldn't do the same today. Yet to not go, and so to never know? It was as if he received an invitation to his own funeral. He knew deep down that it was horrible idea to go, that it would be filled with at least one emotionally scaring conversation and that he probably wouldn't make it out alive. But at the end of the day his own curiosity of how exactly they'd get him into the coffin won out.
Life is all about experiences, he reminded himself.
It was strange trip. He took the bus as he usually did. But it was in the knowledge that in all probability this would be the last time he went to visit her. It would be a visit of firsts as well. It would be the first time he went to see her and would not end up in her bed.
Wait, why the fuck was he going again? That's right, something about pain, desperation and closure. Or experiences. Well it was something about something, the specifics hardly mattered.
It shouldn't be all bad he reassured himself. There was a certain freedom in it being the last time. There was nothing to lose, nothing to worry about for he would never come this way again.
That was when he got the invitation in the mail. A former obsession of his was getting married. A former obsessions of his that swore she would never, ever under any circumstances (unless The Smiths reunited and played the wedding) get married. It took him by surprise, yet it didn't. He had made this prophecy (that she would marry, but no, not to him) drenched in self-pity years before when he was more inclined to believe that the fates were out to screw him over. And he told her about it. And she laughed. And then he laughed. And that in theory was the end of it. Until now. Upon opening the invite he immediately jumped online to see if The Smiths had reunited.
No. No they had not.
There should have been a question in his mind. To go or not to go. To suffer the awkwardness of it all or to forever wonder what it would have been like to see such a thing. To be a firsthand witness to an event that would had shattered him years earlier or... Wait. There were no guarantees it wouldn't do the same today. Yet to not go, and so to never know? It was as if he received an invitation to his own funeral. He knew deep down that it was horrible idea to go, that it would be filled with at least one emotionally scaring conversation and that he probably wouldn't make it out alive. But at the end of the day his own curiosity of how exactly they'd get him into the coffin won out.
Life is all about experiences, he reminded himself.
It was strange trip. He took the bus as he usually did. But it was in the knowledge that in all probability this would be the last time he went to visit her. It would be a visit of firsts as well. It would be the first time he went to see her and would not end up in her bed.
Wait, why the fuck was he going again? That's right, something about pain, desperation and closure. Or experiences. Well it was something about something, the specifics hardly mattered.
It shouldn't be all bad he reassured himself. There was a certain freedom in it being the last time. There was nothing to lose, nothing to worry about for he would never come this way again.