11 Moving on (1/2)
How much are you willing to give? How much are you willing to not take back? How long will you stare at a phone waiting for them to call. To give you so much as a yes or no. How long? When will you say enough is enough, that the days you waited were enough, that what you gave was enough? Are you chasing that idea of love so much that you can't let go? Are you so scared of loneliness that you are unwilling to ask for more? Are you? Answer me damn it!
Stop looking at your phone, she isn't going to call. You told her your father has cancer but she isn't going to offer you any response. So stop waiting! Stop telling yourself five more minutes, stop making excuses for her. Just stop.
That pain in your fist, that is real. That sinking feeling in your gut, that is real. The sweat is real. The excuses you are making for her are not real! None of that is real! Get that through your thick skull!
Raam was talking to himself, making just trying make himself understand the situation he avoided. Eventually the sun always sets on parts of our lives, we have to let go. His back side down the cement wall as his ass hit the cement flooring. His breathing was labored, his shirt sweat through, his fists covered in blood.
”I have to move on. I…I…I…” He couldn't repeat himself, the words evading him. His head slouched against the wall as his body succumbed to exhaustion.
Raam didn't wait around for Miciah to awaken. He found himself in front of brick building, ”Derrick's Foster Home” hung above the entrance; without dally or pause he walked in with his head held high. The blond hair, blue eyed, college receptionist greeted him. She was likely a solitary girl had nice curves and a sweatshirt with three Greek letters on it.
”I was looking to start the process for adoption.”
She rampaged through one of her draws and pulled out a packet and clip board, ”Fill out this packet and we will go from there.” She didn't take more than a glance at Raam before returning to her book. It was only with a curt glance but Raam couldn't help but chuckle at the title, ”A Lover's Remorse”.
”Good read?” He asked grabbing a pen from the mug.
”Really good, a really short story, but the characters are so realistic it pulls you in.” She praised her eyes still not lifted from the pages.
”I always felt the symbolism is what carried the story.”
”Symbolism is nice, but without the character I wouldn't make it through the first read to find the symbols in the second.”
”Very true. If only the grammar was better, maybe then the book would be a best seller.”
”It criminal the second book he wrote, 'Liar's Requiem', never got more publicity. Everything was so well done.”
”The theme wasn't popular enough to be mainstream. No matter how well done, without an audience, books will never be popular. People don't like being attacked with every word.”
”Damn criminal, the first-person narration of a man pointing the flaws of main characters and how striving for such ideals lead us to ruin. Masterful, just masterful, all while making us sympathize with a man who has no right being forgiven.”