West of Somewhere

Razor Blades

There’s this thing about getting your heart broken, you can never remember how it feels. It’s kind of like breaking a bone. At the time, it hurts like a mother fucker. Later, when you think back on it, you’ll know it hurt, but you’ll never truly feel that pain again unless you re-break it. Heartbreak is both elusive and lingering. What a bitch, right?

Products of Your Environment

It all started when your father left your mother. Ever since then you have been chasing others. Too bad you are in over your head.

That is the companion hint fiction to Victims. 25 words of less. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Does it allude to a greater story?

Victims

You are a chaser. It is what you do. When you see someone you want, you go after them. You convince yourself that you want them. Need them. The object of your desire becomes your lifeline. They are your oxygen. They are your blood. They are your heart.

Except they are not, not really. You tell yourself that they are with such conviction; it almost makes it true. Everyone sees it. Except they do not. They see what you tell them and yourself. They believe that the lies are true. A hopeless romantic. What they believe is important to you. You do not want a reason to doubt yourself.

The unattainable are fascinating. You thrive on uncertainty. You want to run after them forever. If you get them, the fun is over. The game is off. You have to move on when this happens. You end up breaking them. Because you made them want you. You are a heartbreaker.

When she walked into your life, you were without a target. You knew immediately that she was what you wanted. After the getting to know you phase, you were set. It felt like every time before. You told yourself it was love. That it was genuine. In the back of your mind, you knew it was not. You suppressed the thought. It would ruin your game; your entertainment.

Months had passed. This was the most exciting venture yet. She was your most challenging conquest ever. There was a brick wall of resistance.

Then one day, there was not.

It happened five months into your game. Suddenly, she was not following your rules anymore. She gave into your suggestions of romance. It startled you. You were not reacting like you normally did. You were not disappointed as per usual. You were satisfied. You were not looking for a way out. You were in uncharted territory. This turn of events was making you happier than ever before; and more frightened.

You realized then, that your past had been a game. Even though you always knew that. Now you were not lying to yourself. Somehow, this felt good. A weight had been lifted.

The newfound bliss lasted for exactly two weeks. That was when she attacked. You did not fully understand what was happening until much later. You had picked horribly. She was wild. An incredibly vicious version of your past self. She was more aware. She knew exactly what she was doing. She was better at hiding things. She saw through your subconscious game. She saw through you.

She told you that it was all a terrible mistake. She said that she did not and would never love you. She said she felt nothing. She broke you. She is a heartbreaker.

You were a chaser. It was what you did. You turned into the chased. She made you want her. Need her. She became your lifeline. She was your oxygen. She was your blood. She stole your heart.

—-

I wrote this flash fiction for my Lit class. If you are unfamiliar with flash fiction, it’s supposed to be strange. And open. There is a lot of interpretation that is supposed to go on. It’s not mapped out completely by the author. The reader is left to fill in a lot of blanks. And the title should add a new dimension or better understanding to the work.

Because most of you know me personally, I’ll add some author notes.

Or not. I wrote out a big long explanation. But I over simplified and did a disservice to my story. I didn’t explain my point very well at all. But maybe that in itself is the point. Everyone comes up with their own brand of understanding. Sometimes they cannot be expressed in words, but understood in your own mind only.