Love, Rubi ❦ H.S.

- thirty one -

Rubi Jones
March 22nd, 2018 - 1:15pm
❦

Can you ever really listen to a song too much?

I understand the phenomenon, like getting to the point where the song is overplayed, and worn out. The lyrics become meaningless babbles and the rhythm becomes nails on a chalkboard.

But it seemed as though this one song was the only thing that could fill the gaping hole in my heart.

'You could be my silver spring...
Blue, green, colors flashing'

'I would be your only dream...
Your shining autumn, ocean crashing'

The sound of Stevie Nicks' sweet, raspy voice was the only thing that got me out of bed this morning. Without it, I'd probably still be sunken into the divot in my mattress.

Today was hard. Easier than yesterday, but still proving to be just as difficult as the many other days I've gone feeling this way.

And yet, what I was feeling wasn't sadness. It wasn't remorse, for something I've lost— or anger, for something that I could've done with out.

It was just... emptiness.

An overwhelming flooding of emptiness. That's what it was. The aforementioned hole in my heart was doubling by the second, as I laid in my bed and basked in my own self loathing.

All I could think was why. Why me? Of all people for life to tamper with, God crashed his mighty staff directly onto the top of my head.

My apartment was cold, and has been for days now. I've let the beaten down HVAC run it's course— making it my mission to avoid any human interaction, especially with my landlord. So, to cope with this cold front, I've wrapped myself in a protective cocoon of blankets and sweatshirts.

I'll sit on the loveseat, away from my bed. The air won't get to me from there. That should help, right?

This fucking sucks.

'... Time cast a spell on you
But you won't forget me.

I know I could have loved you,
But you would not let me...'

I stared off into nothing, my eyes dry from past tears and nose full of mucus that I had been sniffling up in order to avoid grabbing a tissue.

Flapjack purred calmly beside me, his tail tucked under his chin as I rested my hand on his head to give him a gentle pat.

I like to do that once in a while. I've always assumed that cats have no object permanence, so giving him a gentle pet is my way of letting him know that I'm still here. Even if he's been passed out for hours, I'll always let him know.

To add to the growing pile of fucked up shit, my phone has been dead for days. I can't find the energy in me to reach over and plug it in to it's charger, so dead it will stay.

I would imagine that a number of people have been trying to contact me. Now that Louis was back, I'm sure Demi's been up my ass about deals, and whatnot.

Same goes for Gio, who I have much more respect for. He's probably worried sick about me, and I'm surprised that he hasn't already sent the cops to bust down my door.