The Tragic Story of Us

It hurt watching him hurt. I would see him from time to time around school, leaning against the wall trying to socialize when by the looks of it all he wanted to do was be alone. I think what got me hooked was the mystery he left each time I’d look away from his light brown eyes. He was a puzzle waiting to be solved and each word he would utter was a riddle waiting to be figured out. What first caught my attention were the poems he wrote at creative writing, every character and word was so vivid and alive. After he would read out his poetry everyone would clap and compliment it never knowing the true story behind it, that’s what shocked me the most. At school I’d avoid him, simply dodging him each time he’d pass me by in that filthy hallway. My favorite subject was creative writing not just because I was a fan of poetry but because every morning I’d wake up anxious, eager to listen to his new poem, his new trouble. I know that I only knew him through his poetry, but I feel like we have met before, I don’t know when, where or how but this feeling in my guts tells me we have, however this could be the results of me using his poetry to avoid the real things happening around me or in my life, I guess his poetry was a way I could escape all that.

At the moment I am looking to my south-west corner, getting a glimpse of him as he slept with his head on his books. A few seconds after bird watching him I see his nose starting to bleed, drop by drop, his bright red blood would fall onto a book filled with dreadful poetry, the school library never did have good poetry. I overhear the bell ring, and that’s when he would awake realizing he is bleeding. I grab my bag and walk up to him, I take a tissue out of my pocket and give it to him as I say “are you okay?”, he replies “yes, thank you” in his rough and uneven voice, a hard smokers voice perhaps. As I walked out the door I could feel him watching me, strangely I kind of liked it as now I feel acknowledged by him.

As I walked through the hallway feeling oddly strange with a touch of joy I hear this familiar voice shouting “wait up”, as I looked back I see him, the guy I knew through his poetry. He says “my name is Lowen  Bukowski” as he walks up to me, I replied “Bukowski?, like the poet?” as I softly giggled, he said “am flattered but comparing such a great man to me is an insult to him” as he laughed, “so what’s your name” he says, I answered “its Taylor Jean”. We walked out the school doors as slow as possible so we will have more time to talk, it hasn’t even been a few minutes yet we feel so close. When it was time to part ways after no less than ten minutes of knowing each other, it felt like saying goodbye to a friend you have known since childhood. As we walked to different directions he said “see you tomorrow”.

When I got home I couldn’t wait till tomorrow, I spent the day lying on my bed, looking at the dusty celling with loud music in the background which I was too distracted to appreciate. I spent the rest of the night thinking about what might happen tomorrow, making up incidents that probably wouldn’t happen. As I replayed the moments Lowen and I shared in my head, my eyes shut slowly too tired from conjuring up experiences and too sad from realizing it probably won’t occur. 

When the morning tide comes I awake with an apprehensive smirk on my pathetic face. I burst out of my pajamas, brush my teeth, washed my face and put on some clean clothes with a ton of perfume, even though i know no amount of perfume will make me less nervous or make him like me. I skipped breakfast leaving my mother inexplicably confused.

When I got to school I noticed I was very early as the school gate had not yet been opened. I sat beside the gate summarizing exactly how idiotic I am and that’s when i hear footsteps coming from behind me, an irregular voice said “what are you doing here its early”. I looked back and there he was jiggling a bunch of keys in his hands with a bizarre expression on his face. “Lowen what are you doing here?” I say in curiosity, he says “probation, the principle made me come early to clean up the gym”. “ohh” I say as my curiosity has now been satisfied. He says, out of nowhere “would you like to hangout”, and this questionably was sort of a big deal for me as from what I know he never liked anything to do with socializing, however in this very moment he was asking me, why me? He now gave me another riddle to add to my list. I replied saying “yea sure, when?” he then laughs like some type of serial kill as he says “now? “At first I laughed thinking he was just joking, I looked at his face and from his expressions I could tell he wasn’t being playful. I say “You’re serious?” with a chaotic face and pitchy voice, he then laughs again, now I am absolutely unconscious of exactly what he was thinking so I just playing along as this is what every human without the ability to read minds would do. As I wait for him to finish laughing I couldn’t help but smile for now I am seeing high in the heart of someone who has gone through a great amount of agony for one person. It was a laugh that lasted for no further than a few seconds however through my eyes I saw something entirely different, I saw a series of episodes each having its very own purpose and meaning to it. The laughter was healing his injured soul little by little, shrinking his pain.

Once he was done laughing he looked at me, he looked right through me with that amiable leer we just observed each other and understood each other without a word. He said “come with me I know a place, don’t worry it’ll be worth it” as he knew I was scared about missing school, my naked eyes said it all. He took my hand with a charming smile from a side only showing the corner of his teeth as he whispered “follow me”, I followed him convinced it’ll be worth it. I dragged my feet along with every step he took as I try to make my mind up, did I make the right decision?

We walked for quite a while, time passes fast when yours caught up with my own thoughts. I realize we are now climbing stairs, I asked him “where are we going” very much suspicious, he answered “you’ll see” with a nervous chuckle. When we reached stable surface he puts his hand on the doorknob ready to turn it with the other hand in mine covered with tense moisture as he says “we are here, ready?”, I answered bemused “ready for what?” And that’s when he turned the doorknob, as the door opens the sun hits my eyes and i hear birds chirping, I could see the blue sky so close to me and I could feel the warmth of the sun within milliseconds. We were on the rooftop of an elevated building, I took some time in silence to take in the beauty, “it’s better at night” he says to my silence. I walk to the edge of the giant building I know stand on, I pull myself towards the edge and look down, I see tiny people talking up and down with determination, how I envy them. I sensed him watching me looking down at the ant like people, “its poetic isn’t it” he says as he pulls me away from the edge for my safety with his slippery hands that didn’t lose hold of me. “I come here to write sometimes or when I feel alone, I guess standing here makes me feel like I am superior or at least makes me feel like something” he says as he avoids eye contact, which is proof that what he said Is true but for some reason he is ashamed of it. “Writers are an envious bunch”, I say to him trying to make him feel comfortable with the truth he spoke. He looked at me with his sharp eyes targeting me like a wolf hunting for its prey I assume he was confused exactly to why I would give him this kind of attention he felt like he didn’t deserve it, if only he knew what I was thinking.

We sat there on the rooftop sharing a few cigarettes for hours while we talking about poetry, life and anything else that came to mind, we had nothing to hide, we started to see each other’s bare heart. I saw the real him, now he wasn’t the guy I knew through his poetry he, was so much more, more than he’d ever comprehend. There was so much about him i didn’t recognize, there was so much about him I didn’t realize, till now. The potential he’ll see but he’ll never be, drives me crazy. Generally one does not trust another in just two days, it takes years to earn someone’s trust but it was so different for us I guess we just connected as we both do alienate ourselves from others. We both had a huge impact on each other. To be frank I never really cared about what others thought of me, but him, I took his every opinion into consideration. In between one of our conversations about Stephen king my inquisitiveness speaks up and says “why was your nose bleeding the day we first met?” he answers “your beauty make me bleed” with an innocent chuckle. “no, seriously What happened?”, I said. “It’s a side effect to drugs”, he murmurs, humiliated by his mistakes. “did you quit?”, I asked him with a worried tone”, “ever since you were new at school”, he answered, “that was a year ago”, I said, shocked and riddled while looking into his secretive eyes. “I know”, he says, with a terrified sound in his voice, I purely just looked at him and smiled. It took some time to take it in as it was very startling but mostly I was bamboozled wondering why this attractive soul liked an ugly, hideous and broken soul like mine. He looked at me and grasped that I accepted him for who he is, for his faults and his bad verdicts as we all have flaws, he would understand if he saw himself through my eyes. I said, “how come you never talked to me?” he responded with a serious appearance “I thought someone like you would never even look at someone one me”, “what do you mean by that” I say, baffled. He answers with a touch of anger “I mean I am an awful person, an addict, and a mess and your perfect there is absolutely nothing wrong with you, and me coming into your life will eventually ruin you and I don’t want that, anyways why would you even look at someone like me”, I say to him “ I like you and I like you for you that includes your flaws”, after a moment of silence and intense eye contact I lean over and press my lips against his cheek followed by smelling the nicotine mixed with a little cologne on him. As I pull myself away from him he looks at me, astonished. “I have to go its late, see you later” I said as I walk away, he still had that dumbfounded look on his face even when I walked out of the door.

On the way home I felt feelings of all sorts, scared, happy and clouded. One thing I know for sure is that I regretted nothing today. As I walked through the busy streets I saw the buildings like modern day mountains. The lights that hung on the mountains get brighter, as the skies get darker. I couldn’t get my mind of him, I spent most of my time figuring out his riddles but never once have I solved his equation. I now comprehend that he is the kind a guy no one would not completely understand, strong , independent and all the other positive expressions, but this is just others opinion, inside to himself he is this lonely, sad, depressed and the other negative expressions sort of soul. You know that quote “there are two sides to a story “? Well believe me it’s true. Similarly there are two sides to every soul, one side is the side that everyone around him sees, and the other the side is what he sees to himself in the mirror. I’ve seen him around and I’ve observed him he’s an amazing person but he doesn’t know it which makes him even more remarkable.

When I got home I threw myself on the bed trying to rest all the questions now stuck in my head. I accidently passed out heavy from all the thinking. I woke up the next morning with varied feelings. As I walked past the frenzy school gate I was exited but also nervous to see him, I started sweating, my hands were slippery and my throat was dry. My second period was creative writing, the only subject me and Lowen shares. The first period passed by so slow I was on the edge on my seat clinging on to the phone just in case, the teacher just kept on talking and talking, this is the first time I did not pay attention in class I just wanted to go, minutes passed by like hours. As the bell rang i ran out of the room and ran passed many hallways finding my way to the creative writing class. When I finally reached my destination I sat in my seat anxious waiting for him to walk through the door, see me and smile. I didn’t take my eyes off the door some time later I gave up hope I was wondering if I did something wrong or said something wrong, I was wondering if It was me, I was worried as I didn’t want to lose the only friend I cherished my time with, the only one I trusted and the only one who knew the genuine me. As I look at his seat picturing him sitting there with his hunched back, sleeping on outrageous public library poetry, I could hear something in my head saying “it’s your fault”, not knowing the fault I still believed the voice, it played on repeat like a broken record tape. I shout out “bathroom, can I use the bathroom?” as everyone laid eyes on me, as the teacher nods her head I walked out as fast as I could with my head held low. When I entered the bathroom I see the mirror, I see something i don’t like, questioning every question I ever held in. I was cursed with the outline he was solely the only one who could break this spell but what do I know I am just an outcast, in love with an idea that probably wouldn’t have last. This mild ache of lust, gives me a heartless pain. At break I sat on my usual chair, the chair that gives me a perfect view of him. As I sat there it reminded me of the times we would have the world soundless as we stared at each other trying to figure out exactly what the other is thinking about and the times he would lean against the wall trying to talk to his so called friends when all he could do is gaze.

After school I walked to the rooftop he took me, I don’t know why but I just had to go, let’s just say an unknown force made me. As i pushed the door open with anger I run out to the middle of the rooftop, it felt like I was trying to get oxygen in my lungs when there is oxygen everywhere. I take a cigarette out of my pocket in frustration and place it between my lips and that’s when I hear his voice saying “smoking is bad for you, didn’t you know that?” from behind me, I replied saying “it calms me” with a shock in my voice. He walks up to me and takes the cigarette out of my mouth with an irritated smile as he says “your lungs don’t deserve it”. “Where were you, did I do something wrong?” I said with an angry tone, “no, no nothing you did nothing wrong” he answers with an uneasy stutter. “Then why didn’t you come to school?” I asked him peculiarly, he replied “I had issues back home and…”, I say confused “and?”,  “and I was trying to build up the courage to talk to you after the idiotic way I spoke to you yesterday“ he relies with a thud, I answer softly, “ it’s okay,  you spoke your mind nothing else”. “Why are you still here, you know the real me aren’t you disgusted”, he said surprised, I answered, “not even a little”. He moved in close to me, pulled me in and kissed me kindheartedly, memorizing every moment, feeling every moment. He would stop after every few shots of his delicate kiss and just look at me, eye to eye, making sure I am feeling exactly what he is feeling, Passing on cigarette smoke from mouth to mouth. We could go for miles, miles and miles sharing the same cigarette breath.

One thing led to another and we ended up in his room, I see broken bottles and lit out cigarettes on the side by his bed lying next to books filled with good poetry and papers with poems of his own, now he’s tearing through the papers and the ink. All the mess that he made, everything he did, everything he wrote in oblivious is filled with pain and blood, he was drowning in a pool filled with his own fury and I admired it, I admired the broken and damaged souls I found them more attractive for reasons anonymous maybe because they are stronger and braver then us ordinary souls. He will not be another faultless blur in my lifespan, he was my bittersweet symphony.

I woke up to his plain white sheets where I’d lay raped up around it, I rolled over to his end of the bed where he would lay still very much awaken, I would spoon over even more closer to his body, fixing our bodies together like two puzzle pieces, now one, the only puzzle of his I ever solved. That’s when he would pretend to have woken up to me pressing my lips against his neck, but we both know those eyes of his hasn’t had any rest for a long time. After the reunion my lips and his neck, I’d see the corner of his smile from the view I now hold, behind him. He would then turn over and bring me even closer to his body and put his head on my neck, holding me even tighter. We would bare each other, cloth to skin, skin to bone, bone to heart and heart to soul. We would then lay beside each other in silence just embracing each other’s existence. We would lay there for hours not a hum, i could hear his heart beating, and I could hear our hearts beating, just the noise of our hearts. My eyelids slowly close tired from all the noise.

As I laid there on his dirty sheets half-awake I could see him watching me, I could feel him watching me as he sat next to the dusty window having a smoke. “you should really stop smoking” I say to him with my morning voice, he smirks as he put the cigarette away and says “your right I don’t need it, I got you, you took the pain away”, I laugh softly thinking to myself I love everything about him, i have fallen for him, but I am too terrified to say it. He walks close to the edge of the bed, leans in close to me and whispers “I think I love you” with his nervous and ruff voice, “good, because I think I love you too” I say with nothing but a smile on me. We look into each other’s eyes with nothing but relief and happiness, we are finally not alone. “I am going to go get us some breakfast, don’t move I’ll be right back” he says with a happy tone in his voice, “I’ll be waiting” I say. As he left me there on his bed, happiest I have ever been, I couldn’t help but think of him. He thought he was a no good addict but to be honest all I see is good in him, to his eyes he was a sinister in a pure world, to me he was as pure as the soul of a saint in a hellish word. For once in my life I was happy moving forward.

An hour or two passes which drives me to get out of bed I thought maybe he’s just running late. So i waited for him sitting on his cheap sofa and wearing his t-shirt that carries his scent, all which I have started to love. As I waited and more time passed by I started get worried and that’s when I hear a bang on the door, thinking it was him I opened the door with a smile, it was the cops they ask with an official voice, “does Lowen Bukowski live here?”, I answered “yes, why what happened”, curious but even more frightened, that’s when hell falls over, they tell me the one man I loved with my life met an accident, drunk driver they say, he did not survive they say. I close the door acting strong so the cops would leave and that’s when I get down on my knees and the tears roll down my face, I have never felt his kind of pain it recapped me of the pain he would agonize from. He stood by me with a helping hand when i would fall, I would hold on to him through every unfamiliar road, he wouldn’t let me fall, he wouldn’t let me go, and now I have lost him. His demons may drag him down but he never stopped getting back up for me. It all happened so fast. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.

I spent the next day crying to myself, being my own shoulder to cry on and writing about what I was feeling, a sort of therapy, now I understand why he wrote. Sometime later after building up the nerve when moon rose i walked to our spot that once was just yours. I didn’t exactly know why I went there, maybe because it was the closest I could get to still being with you, I was hoping as I took out a cigarette I would hear your voice from behind telling me not to smoke my sorrows away. I then leaned over the edge of the rooftop hoping you would be there to pull me to safety, but the blue truth was that you were gone. since you didn’t drag me away from the edge it led me to standing on the edge, normally if I was standing on the edge of a tall building my legs would shiver and I would get myself to safety but now, now I didn’t care, nothing mattered anymore, I felt nothing, I thought let’s just get over with this.

With the scent of alcohol on me and a cigarette between my lips, I stood there levels above solid ground. One, two, three, should I jump, four, five, six, should I jump, seven, eight, should I jump, nine, ten, I am a coward. I climbed down, thinking this is not what he would have wanted. This is how things are and you can’t change it. “C’est la vie”, I say to myself, in translation, “that’s life”. I now see everything in black and white, it’s an awful sight can someone please shed a little color on me. If I could not feel pain maybe, I can be happy. But the sad truth is that pain is felt by everyone. If it was something you could run from, I would be running all my life. They say running isn’t an answer but I can’t come up with any other conclusion. The only things I can do is act numb and make myself believe that I do not feel pain, that I cannot feel pain. But I tried I wipe the tears off my face, wash the blood off my wrist, smile and keep breathing. I am alive. Death, alike to Nazi soldiers, they show no mercy, taking away the life of a person I loved.

It’s been years now and I will always remember the time I spent with him. He might be gone but from time to time I can feel him around the air I move in. I just hoped when he left he accepted and understood exactly how much he meant to me. I took my time thinking there was time, but there wasn’t, you never know when death will come around so don’t waste your time admiring someone from afar why not admire that someone from up close. I miss him every day but I keep in mind that he is watching me I could feel him watching me time after time similar to what he would do with most of our time together. That’s the thing about hope you hold onto it, sometimes it can save your life, and it can be the only thing separating you and death. I learned how to live with the pain, the pain is what made me a better person, Lowen made me a better person.

I still go to our spot sometimes just to feel you watching me.